Gathering One's Wits
by Remember-Sathair
Summary: The interesting origins of the bland, humorless Chrestomanci. Gabriel spends some time away from the regal life of hereditary enchanters, while experiencing some rather undignified circumstances- involving necromancers, princesses... and chickens.
1. Dismal de Witt

I believe that in all my life, I have never experienced so much shock as I did the day I was asked to leave school.

"Gabriel," the headmaster said to me, fixing me to the spot with his somber eyes, "I cannot allow you to continue here. It has become clear that your uncontrollable magic talents, mischievous habits, and general contempt for your masters are too disruptive for Garrett School to tolerate. I must ask you to leave of your own free will, or you will be forcibly removed. That is all."

I opened my mouth to protest, but realized that this was a useless course of action. It was my final year, and I was on the verge of graduating as one of Garrett's top students. I would not have the nerve or the inclination to say farewell to my friends, nor would I have any chance to make up for my mistakes.

I leapt from my chair, biting my lip as I felt my throat tighten. I would not grieve in front of my headmaster, especially when he was so satisfied at finally getting rid of me. I stormed from the room, slamming the door in absolute fury. I sprinted through the corridors full of other boys my age, feeling a sense of hopelessness. They would know why I was sprinting by the next day. They would know why I was gone. I threw myself on the hard, uncomfortable bed, looking at my room and lamenting that I would leave it prematurely. I felt a sudden urge to set a plague of vampire bats upon the headmaster, or perhaps turn all my masters' desks into green jelly.

"Useless," I growled, feeling both rage and sadness battling one another for dominance. I think that perhaps cold acceptance came to take the place of basic emotion, after I lay there for so long. It was well into the night when I finally rose, preparing to pack my things and leave Garrett. I left many things behind, including my uniform and schoolbooks. I took the old outfits that I used to romp round the countryside in during the holidays, and I also took my sturdy boots. I packed them in a messy lump, jamming my small leather suitcase shut with a few frustrated jabs.

I tiptoed through the hallway, opening the least noisy doors and finding little-used passages to take. I finally emerged through a side door, where a huge field opened before me. This was the field where my friends and I had grown an enormous man-eating petunia, where we had made an invisible pit of rotten banana peels, where we had reclined upon the grass and watched the clouds float by as we skipped classes. Those memories made me feel both sad for the loss of my friends and sorry for my blatant disregard for Garrett's system of discipline. I thought, rather drearily, that these sorts of emotions were unbalancing me a bit. I began to walk toward Garretton, where the locomotive station awaited. I trudged dismally, hoping that I was leaving messy footprints across the beautifully kept lawns.

I turned around suddenly, casting a spell to make nasty brambles appear. I thought they rather expressed my feelings.

Town was dismal in the late hours, and I received some very nasty stares from the formally dressed people waiting in the station. I purchased a ticket from the red-eyed salesman with the little money I had left. The ticket was for Locomotive Seven, which went straight to the city of Tundem Falls. I figured that if I left my family far enough behind, they would feel more loss and disgrace me less. They wouldn't accept me back as a school dropout. My father, his father before him, and so on had all graduated from Garrett at the top of their classes. All my brothers and sisters had graduated from their chosen schools at the top of _their_ classes, and then there was me: the black sheep of the generations.

I think that perhaps the next few days were spent by me in shock. I could not accept that there was no future for me. I had been born with the strong talents of an enchanter, just like the rest of my family, and yet there was no position for an enchanter thrown from school, no matter how talented he was. It was like a talented businessman asking for a job in a business, though they had no proof of his talents. In fact, it was worse. The world was full of talented magic users, which meant that there was no end of competition between them. The best enchanters spent many years at school, acquiring exclusive diplomas that promised their ethic and usefulness.

I was forced to sleep in a dingy little tavern, which frankly appalled me. I had never set foot in a tavern, let alone slept in one. I felt a complete snob because of it, for the people that ran the place seemed rather nice. For several hours I tossed and turned, wondering whether to stay in Tundem Falls or perhaps go back to Garretton, where my father would surely be waiting to turn me out if I as much as set foot upon his doorstep.

There was nothing for it: I had to get a job to feed myself. I had never had a job before, and had no idea how to go about getting one.

"Sir," I asked the landlord as he served me a dismally prepared breakfast of eggs and sausage. "Could you perhaps tell me where I could find a job?"

"Not sure," said the landlord, thinking hard. "I think Tundem Hotel is looking for new boys to carry the bags. You could ask there." I picked my sausage from the plate as I swallowed the egg in one hurried gulp.

"Thanks," I said, rushing out the door. As much as Garrett stressed formality, I had never spoken in that polite, restrained way, although I seemed rather long-winded as an essayist.

The streets were busy with morning hustle and bustle, while the sun was covered in a hovering haze of grey clouds. I think they reflected my mood as I rushed through the streets, hurriedly asking people which way to the Tundem Hotel. I finally stumbled upon a grand building in the aristocratic quarter of the city, where the people were all either silly ladies in frilly dresses walking impeccably groomed toy dogs or grim, fancy carriages carrying eminent businessmen and noblemen. I walked through the golden door sedately, trying with all my might to appear tall and dignified.

"Excuse me," I said grandly to the receptionist, who was busily writing upon the register. "I have come to inquire about employment."

"Eh?" he asked, adjusting his round spectacles. "Oh, you're here for a job? Do you have any experience in the hotel industry?"

"Er… I'm afraid not," I said, still stiffly affecting a strong, upper-class accent.

"Oh well," said the receptionist, shrugging. His beautifully cleaned suit showed the glaringly terrible state of my own clothing. I was wearing a brown shirt and torn black pants with suspenders. My boots were scuffed and filthy against the lovely pink runner that covered the wooden floor. "You want to be a bellhop? Carry the guests' bags, show them to their rooms?" I nodded, still arching my back in that formal way.

"Well…" he said doubtfully, tilting his head to see my face. "I suppose we can hire you on a trial run. You'll have to talk to the manager, though."

"I'd be happy to," I said, losing my formal demeanor in an instant. I used magic to make myself look a bit better while the receptionist turned to leave his counter. He cocked an eyebrow at my improved appearance.

"You'd really be better off without the glamour," he said, shaking his head. "You'll look too formal to be a bellhop."

"Ah," I said, letting the spell unravel. "Do you _have_ to be scruffy to get the job?"

"Well, it's really best to be short," he replied, "and look completely deferential. The managers are very aware of how the guests see the people who wait on them. They're not supposed to notice you, unless they notice how efficient you are."

"I'm too tall?" I asked incredulously. "That's a strange reason to not give me a job of carrying bags."

"You see the reason, though," he said. "Come on, the guests can't see a hooligan like you standing in the lobby. Follow me." I followed behind him as he led me through several kitchens and laundry-rooms.

"Sir?" he said, knocking on the door. "I've got an applicant for the bellhop position."

"Send him in," the manager growled. "Get back to the desk right away."

"Yessir," said the receptionist, hurrying away. I walked into the office, slouching as much as possible.

"And who are you?" he barked, looking up from a pile of papers and money.

"Gabriel de Witt," I croaked, sitting shakily upon the Spartan wooden stool that was before the desk. This man presented a challenge to me, I think.

"Bellhop?" he asked, counting bills with amazing speed. His fingers were long and spindly, while his body was rather short and small. "You don't look like one to me. You look more like an enchanter in disguise." I realized that this man was also an enchanter, and I felt the challenge increase. It was like school with a particularly nasty master.

"I'm an enchanter," I admitted, "but I'm not in disguise. I just want a job."

"I've never heard of an enchanter being employed as a bellhop, de Witt," he growled, piling the money neatly and beginning on the coins.

"What do you suggest I do, then?" I asked, my anger flaring a bit. "Go work as an enchanter in the Royal Bursar's office? I'm dressed like a ragamuffin and I've been thrown from school. There are plenty of enchanters and magicians and sorcerers to take all the positions that I can't have, trust me."

"Yes," he said. "Why don't you ask in the Royal Bursar's office for a job?"

"I _can't_," I snarled. "I've been thrown from school! Didn't you hear me?"

"Mm. Why does that stop you from getting a job? Untrained, are you?" Coins sped between his nimble fingers and clashed nosily.

"Yes!" I almost shouted. "Do you know how much backwards magic theory I've been trying to learn for the past six years? I was to continue as an apprentice to an enchanter in Civil Service, but I can't do that anymore, can I?"

"Oh, all right, you poor little enchanter," he said, piling the coins neatly in perfect stacks. "The job is yours, provided you don't make all the luggage go up the stairs by magic. Guests don't like that."

"_Thank_ you," I said, clenching my fists. He knew as well as I did that even though I had all the magic at my disposal, I was at a loss as to how to use it in such a way.

"You'll be living on the very bottom floor. Room one-forty-two. Get the key at the desk from Jeffrey. Uniform's already in the room. I'll send the other bellhops to get you started." Apparently he was done, for he turned and began writing fervently on another piece of paper. I got up, gritting my teeth.

I wandered aimlessly through several kitchens, until I finally emerged in the lobby. Jeffrey was standing at firm attention, waiting patiently for any guests to arrive.

"One-forty-two," I said, leaning on the desk. He grinned, handing me the key. He had apparently pulled it from thin air.

"Oh great, more magic users," I groaned. "Are you an enchanter, too?"

"Oh no," Jeffrey said. "I'm a magician. Aren't enchanters quite rare?"

"I'm not sure," I said dismally, "I've been seeing rather too many of them, lately." I walked off, holding the cold, shiny key in my hand. My room was in a closed hall, where the doors were the color of moldy toast and the walls glared an unattractive mauve.

"Oh, dear," said a small, depressed looking rooster, standing in the hallway. "I'm afraid I got the wrong place altogether." I leapt back in alarm, because I was sure that chickens were one sort of guest that this hotel didn't allow. I'll admit the fact that it could speak was rather shocking as well.

"How did you get in here?" I asked.

"I was trying to find the Royal Necromancer's Hall," it said, settling gloomily on the chipped wooden floor. "But I somehow seem to have gotten it wrong. _And_ I'm a chicken," it whined helplessly.

"Who _are_ you?" I asked with great interest.

"Aloysius Sirannia," it said. "I don't remember anything else, unfortunately. I remember the Necromancer's hall, my name, and the fact that I'm not a chicken." It certainly spoke rather well for a chicken. I hoped that it was somehow a hallucination, but I've never been inclined to hallucinate or have psychological problems.

The last thing I needed was a amnesiac rooster of dubious origins, especially when I was obviously treading on thin ice with the manager as it was. I didn't think anyone would have appreciated my running a chicken coop in my quarters.

"Can you help me?" it asked desperately. I sighed, crouching to get a better look at it. Frankly, I never had had any experience with farm animals; therefore, I was loath to touch it.

"Yes," I groaned.

* * *

A/N: Please review and tell me what you thought. Thanks for reading. 


	2. Domestic de Witt

I had spent about half an hour attempting to coax some sense from the chicken, but I wasn't really having a great deal of luck. After awhile, I gave up altogether, for he wasn't very coherent. I supposed this was due to the fact that he was a chicken, but I've never been a chicken (although I've spent a few weeks as a water buffalo during my career).

"I don't know," the rooster squawked in answer to my latest question. I sighed rather unhappily, hoping I could find a way out of my current life of drudgery. With a certain amount of frustration, I donned the bellhop uniform, which was embarrassingly small. At least a foot of skinny ankle and several inches of wrist protruded from the pant-legs and sleeves.

"I don't think that looks very nice on you," the chicken said apprehensively, perched upon the duvet of my bed.

"I didn't ask you," I almost hissed, feeling annoyed that a piece of livestock was insulting me.

"Sorry," it apologized. I'm afraid it wasn't a very good conversationalist, especially when it came to arguments. I spent many evenings instructing it to "shut it."

"Can you please find somewhere that isn't visible?" I snapped, attempting vainly to pull my cuffs to a respectable length. It complied immediately, standing in front of the wardrobe, where it stood expectantly. I opened the door and piled inside the wardrobe a few extra blankets from the closet. It hopped into the wardrobe, looking at me as wanly as it is possible for a chicken to look.

"Stay in there," I said, shutting the door. What was I going to do with it?

"Can you bring me some food later?" it whined through the door.

"I suppose so," I replied, feeling even more annoyed. Somehow the shock of being expelled from school and the annoyance of having another enchanter watching my every move were combining into a mash of aggravation. And here I was, taking out my anxiety and annoyance on a _chicken_. I think that possibly made me feel even more dismal.

My feet, newly covered in shiny black shoes, clacked loudly on the wooden floor. I blanched at the sight of the moldy-toast color of the walls, feeling that I would never be used to them. As if all the anxiety of earlier hadn't been enough, more was to be added.

"Nice pants," chuckled one of the other bellhops, a boy at least three years younger than me. I had to restrain myself from throwing a particularly nasty spell at him, full of green slime and rotten smells.

"I'll need new ones," I said, folding my arms and appraising the people who had come to instruct me.

"Sorry, mate," shrugged another boy, about my age and quite a bit shorter than me. "There _are_ no new ones. You'll have to make due." I pursed my lips, attempting to exude an air of severity. It didn't work.

"Can you show me what I'm to do?" I said at last from the silence.

"Sure," said the oldest boy. "I'm Nate. These are Michael and Luke." He gestured at the other two boys. Luke was quiet and small, while Michael was small due to youth and terribly obnoxious.

The next few days I spent doing a multitude of pointless things. I had to carry bags in just such a way, and I had to use the rickety staff elevator, and I had to _never_ speak to the guests unless they felt the urge to speak to me, and I had to always comply with each guest's every whim… The list went on for quite some time, and I was forced to organize all the useless information in my head. I will admit that at the time I was feeling rather absent-minded: my concentration was being spent mainly on the dilemma of how I was going to be trained as an enchanter. I almost forgot to feed the chicken that evening, and only saved the poor thing from starvation by sneaking a pile of sunflower seeds from the kitchens. I wasn't sure if this was what chickens ate, but it would have to do under the circumstances.

The chicken looked so bewildered when I tipped it a huge pile of sunflower seeds that I was sure that it had less idea of what it ate than I did.

"Thanks," it said, sniffing the seeds apprehensively.

"They're seeds," I pointed out, less than kindly.

"I know," replied the chicken. I could see that this conversation was not going to go anywhere, so I shut the door of the wardrobe and flopped down on my bed, exhausted.

The fact that I was on call twenty-fours hours of the day didn't help my mood in any way. I could hear one of my coworkers banging on my door in the middle of the night, and I almost yelled at him to go away. Then I remembered that guests could check in at any time, so I leapt up, pulling on my clothes haphazardly. Brown waistcoat, tan cravat, red jacket, red pants, shiny black shoes. I galloped out the door a moment letter, feeling that if this situation were to repeat itself I'd set a herd of purple rabid gorillas on whoever was checking in.

"Come on… er…" said Nate.

"Gabriel," I pointed out, yawning loudly.

"Gabe," he agreed, shortening my name to an irritating nickname. "Come on, it's some fancy schmancy Lady from the castle." We ran slowly through the hall, straightening one another's cravats and trying to rub the sleep from our eyes.

"Milady, your luggage will follow momentarily," said Jeffrey, glaring pointedly at us.

"Thank you," the lady said, raising her eyebrows at us. I was surprised to see that she was rather young; she could have been my age, perhaps a little older. She carried herself like a haughty princess, and I was profoundly irritated by the superior expression on her face. Her skirts billowed around her, and I could see she had around the billowing skirts a multitude of luggage. She sailed up stairs, led by Jeffrey, and spoke condescendingly to us.

"Take care not to break anything. There are fragile items in there." She continued up the grand staircase, until she was out of sight.

"Disgusting," said Nate under his breath, and I nodded.

"Horrible," I agreed.

"These weigh a ton!" Nate grunted, nearly dropping an enormous leather trunk. I caught it, and together we lugged it to the staff elevator. We took all the bags up in the same way, and we were both sweating by the time it was completed. As we lugged the last bag up, and Nate was on his way down the grand staircase, the girl addressed me.

"Just who are you?" she hissed. "Why is an enchanter running around as a bellboy?"

"I don't know," I said, feeling my face settle into a pronounced scowl. I could feel that I was going to completely disagree with this girl over everything.

"What do you mean, you don't know? How many enchanters run around as domestics?" She folded her arms. Her voice felt like sandpaper being rubbed vigorously against my ears. Green slime entered my mind once more, not entirely unbidden.

"I'd rather not discuss my personal life with a stranger, especially you," I said, making as if to leave.

"You're not going anywhere," she said, grabbing my arm and firmly steering me closer to the corner of the wall, effectively backing me in. "I'm not convinced you haven't been sent as a spy."

"If I had been, you would have alerted me that you've something worth spying on," I answered as dryly as I could muster.

"I wouldn't have confronted you if I wasn't sure you were out of the ordinary."

"That doesn't seem very efficient," was my only answer. "Please, I'd like to get back to sleep now."

"What are you going to do about it?" she said.

"I'll use force, if necessary."

"And that'll get you fired from this place, won't it? Effectively getting rid of a spy."

"I'm _not_ a spy!" I nearly yelled, feeling my face heat up with fury. "Will you please leave me alone?"

"Not until you tell me why you're here!"

"I got kicked out of school, leaving me entirely penniless and jobless! I'm here to earn some food and shelter."

"You're not convincing me."

"I don't care! Leave me alone, you little devil!" She looked at me as if I had just suggested she were sprouting cacti from both ears.

"I'm watching you," she said, stepping aside. "Be warned."

"I think you've done _sufficient_ warning. Leave me alone." I stormed off, while trying to cool down and clear my foggy head. I think that perhaps this made me even more furious, but I was not going to stand by and allow that disgusting witch harass me!

"Good morning," the chicken cooed from its nest in the wardrobe.

"Go back to sleep," I growled, casting the ridiculously small clothes on top of the creature. I threw myself into the bed, feeling that I would never sleep again until I settled my grudge with that horrible girl. The grandfather clock in the lobby had read one'o'clock, so I was hoping to get quite a few more hours of sleep. I was too busy remembering a girl very much like her, a girl that I had spent my childhood running about the countryside with. She had been the person that had taught me how to avoid being told what to do, and also the one who had usually told me what to do anyway. Hearing this new girl instructing and warning me gave me a cramped feeling, as if I were not free to do as I wished. It was familiar, and not something I was entirely fond of.

I was awoken early in the morning, much to my increased dismay, by pulses of terrifically powerful magic. They pervaded my head, giving me a throbbing migraine.

"What now?" I groaned, pulling on a very wrinkled uniform. I examined my reflection in the looking glass, feeling that I looked very, very bad. My fair hair had not been groomed for days, and clashed terribly with the garish and wrinkled scarlet jacket, while my eyes were rimmed with red and half-closed. Then I remembered that the chicken probably had to go outside to… use the restroom. I groaned again, loudly, and picked the rooster up in my arms. It was placidly asleep, and looked at me reproachfully as I carried it.

"I'm going to let you outside for a bit," I said, feeling a pulse of magic hit me again. It wasn't directed at me, but it was so strong that it was making me feel rather out of sorts. "Oh, dear."

"What's wrong?" asked the chicken. "I feel strange magic."

"You can feel it, too?" I asked with great surprise.

"Of course," it said loftily.

I snuck through the dark hotel, which was empty at the early hour. Even the kitchens hadn't begun cooking breakfast, which I was grateful for, although I was starving. I let the chicken flutter into the miniscule courtyard.

"Don't stray far," I warned it. "If anyone comes out here, perch on the wall."

"I will," it whispered, looking at the sun as if it hadn't ever seen it before. I didn't have any time to spare for its eccentricities, so I sprinted through the halls to the source of the magic. It was coming from a room on the topmost floor, and I was surprised to see that the manager was also there, his palm against the door.

"I suppose you feel it as well," he said, giving me a stern look of disapproval.

"Yes, Mr…" I did not know his name, nor had I pondered the question before.

"Marcus Chant," he muttered, putting his other palm flat against the wooden door. I felt slightly surprised that a Chant was working at a hotel: they were quite a well-known clan of able-bodied magic users. Not that they were particularly respectable.

"Who is making that awful pulsing?" I asked him as he closed his eyes.

"One of the residents of this hotel. He's been living here for years," he said.

"Living here? Wouldn't that cost an awful lot of money?"

"Yes, many of the city's rich simply reside here. Now, be quiet!" I complied, leaning against the wall queasily. Then I heard an ethereal voice, whining plaintively.

"Hello? Hello?" it asked. It was somehow in my mind, so I answered it in my mind.

"_Hello_," I replied. I think my expression must have conveyed complete bewilderment, for Mr. Chant gave me an odd look as he was sensing the awful magic.

"You can hear me!?" it exclaimed. "How is this possible?"

"_I'm not sure_," I admitted, clasping my hands. "_It seems that only I can hear you, though_."

"That's a relief. I'm Selshimara!" it said brightly. I could hear the happiness in its voice.

"_Gabriel de Witt, at your service. Where are you, might I ask?_"

"I have no idea. I seem to be inside someone else's mind." I grabbed my head impulsively, hoping that it wasn't my mind.

"_It isn't mine, is it?_"

"I don't think so. I haven't talked to you before. Some man has been talking to me, though." I was jolted back to reality by Mr. Chant.

"That's it," he growled. "He's going too far this morning. I don't have time for this!"

"_Have you any idea where that foul magic is coming from?_" I asked the voice.

"Oh, I think it's from all the necromantic apparatuses in this place. There's some sort of disturbance in the regulatory magics that are restricting necromancy," it said, rather bewildering me. I hadn't realized its vocabulary was quite that extensive.

"_Could you do anything about it?_" I asked, wondering exactly where this Selshimara was located.

"We-ell… The trouble seems to be that I'm generating part of it. I've no idea who is using my magic to such ends, though. It might be the man I was talking to earlier: he wasn't very nice. That's what I get for spirit traveling without an anchor, I suppose."

"_You were_ what?" I exclaimed mentally. "_Who is using your magic, then?_" Somehow I suspected this voice was telling the truth, though I couldn't vouch for its honesty.

"Oh, I have no idea. I'm somehow trapped inside a… room. It's all white, and has nothing inside whatsoever. I'm quite bored." I was mystified by this response, but the easy deduction I drew from all this was that this voice's magic was being used by whomever was inside the hotel room, whomever was creating the terrible magic.

"Come on, Penny," said Mr. Chant, tapping his foot impatiently on the floor. I wondered momentarily who Penny was, but was soon rewarded with an answer to my query. It was that awful girl, most unfortunately. I'm afraid I shamed myself by giving her a nasty glare, but it couldn't be helped, as she was giving me the same look of dislike. Green slime, I told myself. Green slime if any of this dislike got out of hand.

"Ah, Master Bellhop is here as well, Mr. Chant?" she growled, but ignored me otherwise. Her palms were soon also pressed against the wood of the door, while I battled silently with the temptation to burst through the door and destroy whatever was emanating the distasteful magic.

"What do we do?" she asked Mr. Chant, who looked furious as the waves became stronger.

"Why don't you destroy the person in there doing it?" I suggested in a hoarse mutter.

"We can't," Mr. Chant sighed. "It's not going to happen anytime soon."

"Why?" I asked.

"It's complicated!" Penny snarled, giving me a piercing look of absolute unwelcome.

"Don't you have a job to be doing?" asked Mr. Chant, giving me the same look. I felt more than a little crushed that they both did not want me there so fervently, but what was I to do?

"Will you stop the magic? I can't hear myself think," I said as I walked back down the hall.

"I'll do what I can," promised Mr. Chant, "now get back to work!" I continued to the staff elevator, rather mystified. I wondered how on earth an enchanter had become the manager of this hotel, and also how on earth Penny and Mr. Chant had been acquainted. It bothered me terribly, and I was still doing backwards somersaults in my mind when I fetched the chicken from the courtyard.

"The magic is getting worse," it complained, looking at me accusingly.

"It's not my fault," I said, setting him down gently in the wardrobe. "Please don't make any noise while I'm gone."

"I won't," it said. "I wish someone would crush that awful pulsing!"

"Yes," I said, closing the wardrobe with thoughtful slowness. Another quandary was occupying my mind: that of the mysterious Selshimara and his disembodied voice. It was enough to make me bump into Nate as I was trudging through the corridor, but it wasn't enough to remove my mind from carrying bags to and fro. It seemed that on that particular day there was a large party of Royal Guests arriving in the city, and I found myself feeling very fervently that all the Royal Guests would take a walk off the nearest sizeable cliff. They were all very snooty and very reminiscent of my own family, which put me into a horrid state of irritation.

And on top of all that, I simply did not know where I was supposed to go from the Tundem Arms. I was stuck in a menial job, carrying bags for complete idiots. If only I hadn't set all the Garrett trophies into inexplicable flames! If only I hadn't let my friends convince me to throw Master Terrence into a bottomless pit of gelatin! If only I hadn't turned Master Gullins into a purple ferret! The list went on, and I was reliving all my finest, troublesome moments at Garrett. It did not help that all those "fine" moments had gotten me expelled.

"Sir!" I said, exasperated almost to the point of tears. "You were given key fifteen forty-seven! This is the fifth floor, not the first!"

"Oh, so it is!" the man said cheerfully, pushing his luggage into Luke's aching arms and mine. "I suppose we should go there, then." I almost forced the luggage up the moron's nostrils, but was kept in check by the fact that Jeffrey was helping another guest to her room.

"Why can't they stay in Royal Lodgings, if they're Royal Guests!" I burst out once we were in the staff corridor. Luke shook his head, glaring at nothing. Mr. Chant rushed past, and I stopped him for a moment.

"Haven't you done anything about those horrible pulsations yet?" I said, almost in tears. He looked as if someone had been knocking him over the head with a brick, so I didn't quite have the heart to be angry with him. He simply shook his head, rushing away to the kitchens. Maids were rushing around the corridor as well, looking decidedly queasy. I pushed through them all, rushing into my room to collapse upon my bed.

BAM! I shot up, feeling the same as Mr. Chant had been looking. It was magic, and in nasty, enormous concentration. The chicken could be heard through the wardrobe door, fluttering madly.

"Someone just summoned a _demon_!" it squawked frantically.

"I'll deal with it!" I replied, rushing out the door and wondering why I had said I could deal with it. I couldn't deal with the pulses, let alone a demon!


	3. Please, no more Alliteration

"Hello, there!" said a tall, older woman, stepping into the lobby and viewing the distress cheerfully. Jeffrey was leaning against the wall, gasping for air. I was feeling very distraught and tired, so I almost flung myself at her in fury for her cheerful demeanor. The demon did something, and we felt more waves of nauseating magic wash over our minds. A smell of ozone permeated the air. I sat down, cradling my head in my hands.

"Oh, dear," she said, furling her parasol with a decided snap. "Looks like I'm needed here, after all." She looked at me, and I wiped the tears of pain from eyes as wave after wave crashed through the atmosphere. "Ztella Terrence, demon exterminator," she said, helping me up. "You're a pretty weak little enchanter, aren't you?"

"Impeccable timing," I gasped.

"My instruments can sense a strong summoning days before it occurs, young man," she informed me. "You need to round up the magic users in this building, because I'm sure some of them are having worse reactions than _you_." Her grayish eyebrows disappeared into messy grayish bangs, and she poked me in Jeffrey's direction with the frilly parasol. "Get going." I wanted to turn the parasol into an elephant, but the idea quickly dissolved in the wake of more powerful waves. I nearly threw up as I staggered toward Jeffrey. The world was becoming distorted and wavy from all the magic, and I could see guests collapsing, though they had no idea what was causing their unbidden vertigo.

"Jeff!" I shouted through the small space between us. The sound may or may not have reached him due to the distortion of reality, but I saw his head turn in my direction, perhaps because he may have seen my mouth move. The two of us together might be able to put a stop to this in a localized way. I grabbed his arm, and together we _wrenched_ the world back to the right way, at least in the lobby. Mr. Chant crashed down the grand stairway, erecting shields around everybody. I felt distortion in the distortion, and hoped fervently that it was perhaps that Ztella character's doing.

"De Witt!" shouted Chant furiously. "Get up there and help them!" I looked at him in absolute horror. "Or you're fired!" he added. That statement made me move toward the staircase, where I forced my way up with some crude magic of my own. The magic was becoming strong enough to move us physically, and I was becoming very tired on account of all the work I'd been performing for the past twenty-four hours.

My spindly legs carried me at an alarming rate to the floor where I'd been previously.

Ztella Terrence was pointing her parasol in an epic way at a hulking red creature, whose flaming eyes would have been enough to inspire fear in any human instantly. The man standing before the creature, though, was equally as frightening. He had a fire of ambition in his eyes, a horrible vision that could reduce those of weak constitution into malleability. Ztella's eyes were in direct contrast to those of her enemies; bright, green, and altogether confident. She was grinning, as if the demon had no effect whatsoever on her.

"Sir Pensar," she cried at the man, "How many times do I have to tell you to stop this nonsense?"

"At least once more, Miss Terrence!" he laughed, pointing the demon in my direction. I did the only thing I could think to do.

An enormous wave of terrific magic exploded from my hands, hurtling at the demon. It didn't seem to affect the demon, though it stopped and looked at me quizzically. (If demons do indeed have the ability of human expression, that is.)

"Young man," Ztella said, sighing. "You obviously have never met a demon."

I was stunned. Never had my magic failed me quite so colossally. My breathing became labored and panicked, and in my efforts to back away from the demon's gaze I bumped into the wall rather painfully.

"Don't look so surprised," she continued, pulling something from her pocket. It was a packet of something mysterious. "It's only of mediocre power. This should do the trick."

"You think that you can get rid of me that easily, Miss Terrence?" asked Sir Pensar with amusement. "You may dismiss all you want. I am protected by deeper magic than what you can muster."

"Oh, really?" she said, leaning on her parasol with false weariness. "You seem to forget the multiple occasions on which we have met before. You have not yet gained the upper hand."

"I think, this time, I have."

"Oh, dear" came Selshimara's voice. "I fear that the person drawing upon my power is about to do something rather nasty"

"_Don't let him draw on it, then_!" I cried in my mind. "_You must fight it!_"

"Goodbye, Miss Terrence," Sir Pensar said. He extended his hands, commanding the demon silently. Ztella opened the packet and from it streamed something like liquid light, engulfing the creature. She added her own magic to it, in a strange way, and with a grimace dismissed the demon.

"What?" Sir Pensar whispered, looking furious.

"You know, I think my parasite is rather angry," said Selshimara. "I can feel the anger everywhere- AAAAAHHH!" His speech was suddenly cut off by a terrible cry of pain. I fell to my knees, holding my palms tightly over my ears, for the cry was so loud in my mind that it was painful. "I will not resist again, I think," Selshimara whimpered. I felt deeply sorry that I had encouraged him to resist Sir Pensar. I only hoped that he would not know it was I that was speaking with Selshimara.

"You are dismissed, Frederick Pensar," Ztella whispered triumphantly. "I do think that things did not go quite according to your plan."

"We will meet again," Sir Pensar said, so quietly that I almost did not hear it. I was very relieved that the world was right side up once more. The waves of dizzying magic were also absent. With a final sharp stab of magic Sir Pensar was gone.

"My dear," Ztella Terrence said softly, helping me up. "You really are hopeless. You do realize that you are an enchanter, do you not?"

"I _know_," I said irritably. "I was kicked out of preparatory school. I never had the chance to be formally trained."

"Well, you should consider it. Being the bellboy is really not an appropriate occupation for you."

"Thank you for your opinion, ma'am," I said furiously, ignoring the fact that she had just saved me from certain death. "Unfortunately, I am destitute."

"Mm," she said, looking in another direction as if she had lost interest in me. "Undirected magic is extremely dangerous, as you already know. I have a rogue necromancer to apprehend, though. Would you perhaps consider accompanying me, young man?"

"Excuse me?" I said, taken aback. This was all very sudden.

"Penny! Marcus!" shouted Ztella. Mr. Chant and Penny rushed up the staircase, looking very haggard. "We must be on the move."

"Yes, ma'am," they snapped together. I looked at Jeffrey, who was looking equally harassed.

"You too, Jeffrey," Ztella continued. "We must relocate."

"I realize this," Jeff said, sighing. "I liked it here."

"Come, children. We are going back to the castle now. Will you accompany us, young enchanter?"

"I suppose," I said, feeling as if I had no choice.

"Mr. Allworthy will not be pleased," Marcus Chant intoned as Ztella chalked a pentacle around us with quick efficiency. "I am not pleased, myself."

"Yes, Marcus," Penny said wearily. Oh, how I hated that girl's very voice.

"Say goodbye to Tundem Falls," Ztella said, throwing a handful of powder into the pentacle. We disappeared in a flash, arriving in the domed hall of what I could see was at the least an enormous manor.

"Mr. Allworthy," my four companions said, bowing to the man before me. He was rather diminutive, though what he lacked in height was made up for by his absolute efficiency.

"Ah," he said softly, walking up to me. "I see we've picked up another."

"Yes. It was lucky coincidence he was there, trust me," Ztella said. "Wasn't it, young man?"

"My heir is looking a bit worse for the wear, though," said Allworthy, looking at me cynically. At his mention of me being his heir, I felt stung, as if I hadn't lived up to his expectations at all. "I hadn't expected him to be quite so young," he said.

"I'm not exactly sure what you're talking about," I replied, unsure of what to say. I wasn't usually this taken aback by surprise, but this time- well, it had me on edge. There was too much magic in the air in this place. It made me feel terrible, really.

"You," he coughed, "are a nine-lived enchanter. You are the next Chrestomanci, boy."

"_Excuse me_?" I said, my eyes widening like saucers. My mouth hung open most unbecomingly.

In all my indignation, I suddenly remembered something. "The chicken!" I whispered to myself in horror. "Aloysius! I left him locked in that wardrobe!"

"Excuse _me_," said Allworthy. "I'd appreciate it if you'd keep your answers free of annoying muttering, boy."

"I have to go back to the hotel!" I exclaimed, grabbing at my flaxen hair with worry. "I left something very important there!"

Allworthy's unfeeling, icy blue eyes pierced me like spears.

"It can't be that important," he said coldly.

"I'll not move until you take me back!" I shouted furiously.

"You're being ridiculous," Ztella said, poking me with her parasol. But I had only just started. I hadn't slept for over a day, and I was feeling every sensation tenfold. The light streaming through the glass above created stabbing pains in my head.

"But I _must_!" I reiterated. "You'll not move me!"

"Don't throw tantrums, boy. It's disgraceful," Allworthy snarled. I felt manic now- I hurled myself at them, trying madly to run at the nearest door. In my degenerated state all I could think about was the chicken I was probably starving to death. The exposure to everything, especially the magic, was really getting to me.

"Please," I said as Marcus held my arms. "He'll starve. I've locked him in my room back in Tundem. Please! Aloysius will starve if we don't tell anyone!" I did not realize at the time that I was being ridiculous. Of course someone would have found the chicken eventually in the wardrobe. Or so I hope

"What madness are you speaking of?" Marcus shouted, wrenching my spindly arms and their too-short maroon coverings in his grasp. I sent a sharp bolt of crudely shaped magic at him, knocking him to the ground. As I sprinted like a gazelle through the corridor I felt thin rope- or vines, I wasn't sure, binding my limbs. I fell upon my face, burning it as it slid across the runner.

"That is ENOUGH!" thundered Allworthy. "You are the most ridiculous child I have ever had the misfortune to experience. I will not suffer this sort of behavior! You are barking mad, boy!"

"I'm not mad," I whined through the bindings. "I'm tired."

"Lead the boy to his room," snarled Allworthy. "I will deal with him later."

I felt my heart burning with fiery hatred. I would not suffer this man anymore than he would suffer me.


	4. Unfortunate Circumstances

Well, I did eventually retrieve Aloysius, though it took me half the day. When Marcus tossed me into my sparsely furnished cell (I could hardly call it a "bedroom"), I proceeded to do one of the few things I was really good at. I caused absolute, delightful chaos.

I levitated the dresser, against the wishes of all the castle's muffling spells, and began to bash it against the wall. I set off siren spells, which added to the noise the dresser was making, though the castle obstinately tried to quiet them. I opened my window, and, wearing a wicked grin, sent flaming meteorites in every direction.

A gardener fled across the lawn, pursued by bushes wielding rakes. I let out a chuckle as I witnessed Jeffrey being run down by an animated statue of an enormous ostrich.

"Young man," snarled Ztella Terrence, crashing through the door that Marcus had previously sealed with powerful magic. I howled with laughter when I saw that her parasol had become an anaconda that was wrapping around one of her legs. "This is no laughing matter!" she shouted, grabbing the anaconda furiously and blasting it off her leg. "Change everything BACK!"

"Only if I can retrieve that chicken from Tundem Falls," I said, glancing out the window. Penny was actually on fire, galloping around the expanse of the lawn being chased by my flaming meteorites. It was most satisfying, I must say.

"Are you _enjoying_ this!" she said, horrified. "Is there something wrong with you?"

"Yes," I said, sitting on my lumpy mattress. "Can we get the chicken now?"

"Fine!"

We returned to the pentacle a quarter of an hour later, I holding Aloysius, Ztella gripping an anaconda that mysteriously refused to transform back into a parasol.

"You can run free on the grounds," I told Aloysius, letting him flutter to the floor. "I'll figure out a way to help you later." The chicken squawked absentmindedly and took off running.

"Are you going to be civil now, Gabriel?" Ztella asked, pointing to her anaconda. She was looking at me as if I'd murdered her mother with a spatula. I shrugged.

"I suppose," I said, flicking a hand at the anaconda. It stiffened and shifted back into a parasol. Unfortunately, I wasn't much of a transformer, per se. The fabric of the parasol was snakeskin. "I don't think I can do it much better."

"At least it's not an anaconda," she replied. She looked decidedly harassed. I felt the same, and I was completely exhausted.

I curled up in the moth-eaten sheets, still wearing my bellhop uniform and scuffed black shoes. My whole body ached terribly, and I could feel my balance beginning to fail. It was clear that sleep was in order.

I dreamt that night (and the next day) of being chased by Selshimara's ghostly form, while Aloysius somehow was waltzing with an anaconda. Penny and Ztella were sitting at a desk nearby, furiously playing chess and yelling at Allworthy, who was playing the waltz on a cello. I think that perhaps these images were produced by my exhausted subconscious, but I'll never be sure. It was a bit strange, really.

I awoke to the setting sun streaming through my window, and I yawned hugely. I was decidedly ravenous. My body felt refreshed, but my mind was still functioning a little bit too slowly.

I strode through the door, noting the distressed state of my hygiene and wardrobe. Wandering around the castle was all well and good, but I was too hungry to admire the cleanliness and shiny perfection of it all. Somewhere in the back of my mind I wondered why my room was so poorly furnished- we were in Chrestomanci castle, after all.

"Good evening, Gabriel de Witt," said Ztella Terrence, falling into stride beside me. I coughed to fill the silence. "Are you prepared to act in a presentable way? Mr. Allworthy was not at all pleased with your behavior yesterday."

"I'm sure he wasn't," I agreed. "I think that I was perhaps delirious with lack of sleep, Miss Terrence."

"Perhaps. I still think you should attempt to be civil, though. You are the next Chrestomanci, de Witt."

"I'm not sure I understand," I said. "I thought Chrestomanci was the best enchanter in the land. I am certainly not the strongest enchanter here, even."

"You're a nine-lived enchanter, boy. You will be the strongest, when Allworthy is gone. He's going to prepare you for the post."

"I don't think so," I asserted. "Being Chrestomanci is not in my plans, I'm afraid."

"You have no choice in the matter. It's your duty."

"I beg to differ. I decline. I only accompanied you because you asked me to. I did not agree to live in this castle, let alone take the post of Chrestomanci."

"I'm sorry," she replied. "I really am, but you must understand. This wasn't of your choosing- or mine. It was good that you were so malleable back at Tundem Falls, or you would have noticed that I was simply dragging you back here. I can spot a nine-lifer anywhere, and that's what you are."

"But why can't I do what I want?" I said. "I didn't choose to be born this way!"

"Did Mr. Allworthy, I wonder?" countered Ztella. "It's duty to the people of the Universe. The balance of magic will cease to exist if you do not accept when your time comes."

I don't know exactly how I was feeling at the time. I felt a little bit helpless, as if these people were playing a terrible trick on me and would all scream "surprise!" at the end of it all. Somehow I saw the seriousness in Ztella's eyes, and it made me feel even more helpless.

"I'll be here to help you, Gabriel," she said sharply in a way that was more frightening than helpful. It didn't make me feel any better. I felt stiff and out of place in this terrifying castle, where the people were overdressed and I was but a visitor.

"Thanks," I said sharply. I felt the grease in my hair, and then noticed my ankles sticking out of the hems of my pants. "Is there anywhere I can take a bath here? Or perhaps acquire some new clothing."

"It's all ready for you back in your room, if you had looked," she said. "I'll have dinner sent to you, if that's fine with you."

"Thank you," I said, turning around. "I appreciate it."

"Just act like a normal person, if you please," she replied. She continued walking, brandishing her parasol to the thin air as she spoke. I rolled my eyes and sprinted back to the room, feeling filthier by the second.

The bathroom adjacent to my room was absolutely lovely, and I lavished in the feeling of cleanliness I received. My hair was no longer slick and greasy, but clean and shiny. A stiff starched suit lay on the maroon covers of the bed, complete with a floral silk cravat. I looked at it with distaste, but I wasn't being particularly picky at the time. It was better than what I had been wearing, really. I looked at the walnut dresser, curious as to its other contents.

I went through each drawer, digging through the collection of ugly suits. It seemed that there was not much else, but my hand brushed against something. I drew it out, looking curiously at the book's cover. _The Arabian Nights_. Naturally, it was a censored version, but I smiled at finding it nonetheless. It wasn't as if I would have anything better to do in this castle.

I sat and leaned against the dresser. I felt better now that I was clean, but things weren't looking much better than they had when I'd been kicked out of Garrett. My mother was probably worried sick, and my father was probably cursing me. I missed them, really. I couldn't deny that I was not homesick, but things had been spiraling out of control. I had gone from schoolboy to destitute bellhop to the next Chrestomanci. There were not many similarities between any of these, and it escaped as to how I'd been caught up in it all.

It really was my fault for being a terrible brat at school. But even if I had been good and graduated, these Chrestomanci people would have sought me out. I was stuck. I did not want to be in charge of anything, let alone the balance of magic in the Universe.

"Gabriel," came Jeffrey's voice as he rapped his knuckles on my door. "I've brought your dinner."

"Come in," I replied, rising from the floor.

"You look much better," he said, setting a silver platter on an end table. "Mr. Allworthy would like to see you after you've finished eating. I'm to escort you there."

"So I can't escape?" I asked innocently, shoving a turkey sandwich in my mouth whole.

"If only we both could," he said, shrugging. "Allworthy isn't my favorite, either. I'm an agent, not a castle adviser. I hate being here, but there are no leads in the Pensar case. We're both stuck here, I suppose."

"You're not stuck as the next Chrestomanci," I pointed out. I must have drunk a gallon of scalding hot tea by that time.

"No," he said. "Sorry about that."

"There's nothing you can do," I said. "I'm not too excited about this idea."

"That's an understatement," he muttered. "I don't know what to tell you. There are ways to be happy here, you know. Give the place a chance."

"It sounds like you aren't so sure of that assertion," I replied.

"I don't usually live here. If I did, I'd try my hardest to be happy, Gabriel. I really would." I could see that he was being honest, but it didn't make me feel any better.

This conversation was making me melancholy again. I didn't appreciate it. IT certainly wasn't helpful at all. I was already sure that I hated most of the people there, especially Penny.

"I'm done," I said after I'd swallowed every piece of food given to me. Naturally, I was still hungry, but that could wait until I'd confronted Allworthy. "Let us go."

Jeff led me through the immaculately clean and quiet castle without making any conversation. We ascended many levels and descended some, finally arriving at a dark mahogany door. It was entirely menacing, but I felt like I needed something menacing to vent my trapped helplessness upon. This was all so new to me. Couldn't my estranged family do anything about it?

No. I stopped that train of thought. My father was in my eyes a shallow, conniving man, and doing something that would disgrace his name further would not help his opinion of me. He would be satisfied once he heard the name of the newest Chrestomanci.

"I'll need you to help me find my room again later, Jeff," I said through gritted teeth.

"I'll be here as soon as Chrestomanci calls," he replied, sighing deeply. "Just a moment away, Gabriel. Good luck."

"Thanks so very much," I chuckled morbidly. I plowed through the door, throwing out my chest and removing expression from my face.

"Ah, if it isn't young de Witt," Benjamin Allworthy said, flicking his hand. The door slammed shut, and he beckoned me further into his twilit office. The dark wood of the panels reflected his personality perfectly. I sat in a maroon leather chair before his enormous desk, leaning my elbows on the desk and propping my head on laced fingers.

"You wanted to see me," I intoned in a dead voice.

"Naturally. After your outburst yesterday I thought it would be necessary to speak to you privately. I cannot tolerate such behavior in this place. We have enough to handle without the next Chrestomanci acting like a child."

"I'm deeply sorry," I said. There was a dark cynicism to my tone that surprised me. I don't think I'd ever been as threatened by anyone as by this man. His cold eyes flared at me in a way that made me enraged. He looked at me with two distinct attitudes, I believe. One attitude was that of looking at a disobedient, stupid child. The other was as if he were examining a chess pawn, wondering which move would give him greatest profit.

I narrowed my eyes. I hated him so personally that my hands clenched together, knuckles white.

"I'm sorry, too," he hissed. "I don't like you any more than you like me, de Witt. This is a partnership of convenience, not of choice. Don't think for a second I would keep you on at this castle if you were not a nine-lived enchanter. Not a second, boy." He used the term "boy" in a different way than Ztella did. It was so much more insulting and derogatory. I gasped a breath through clenched teeth.

"Monsignor Allworthy, I could not be more unhappy than you. You are obviously already a bitter old man with a hideously pragmatic attitude. Please excuse my bluntness, but I only reply to yours. You have trapped me in a life that I do not want."

"I wanted it no more than you do!" he snarled in a sudden burst of emotion. "Do you think that I enjoy spending everyday conniving against the rest of the world?"

"Yes," I hissed. "I can see that much in your eyes, Monsignor."

"I am Chrestomanci, not Monsignor. You will use the proper title."

"In my day the proper title will be Monsignor, if it annoys you that much." He snorted.

"You are like fingernails scratching a chalkboard to me, de Witt. I can see that being your mentor will be destructive for both of us. Of course, that won't change anything."

"Probably not." I clasped my hands together, to keep myself from throwing a punch at him.

"Hatred is a passionate emotion, boy. Be careful how generous you are with it."

"I will be, Chrestomanci. But I have lost your respect already, I can see."

"Does it matter?"

"I suppose not."

"You will arrive at the library at nine 'o'clock tomorrow morning, where Marcus Chant will be waiting to instruct you. When I am feeling particularly tolerant, I myself will teach you of more powerful magic."

"I'll see you eventually, then," I said, rising. "Good evening, Chrestomanci. I'm glad we had this little chat." He smiled back. It was more of a hideous leer, really. I grinned back, hoping that it was the grin my mother had used to call "angelic." I wanted it to be really grating to him.

"Had a nice time?" Jeff asked, sneaking up behind me once I was outside.

"It was informative."


	5. Arguments Ensue

"Is that the best you can do?" asked Marcus Chant. I think he was even more frustrated with me than I was, which was almost impossible. I just _couldn't_ do things with so much effort for so little effect!

"Basic witchcraft isn't easy for enchanters, I'll give you that," Chant said, smoothing his hair as he made an effort to calm down. Considering the redness of his complexion and the obvious tension in his body, I could tell it wasn't really working well. Veins stood out in sharp relief against his neck, and his eyes were narrowed. It was really a shame I made him so angry; he was usually tolerable. "But really, Gabe, you could at least put a little effort into it!"

"Sorry," I said nastily, rolling up the sleeves of my ugly suit. I was always wearing those ugly suits these days, and they made me look even more skinny and gangly than I usually looked. Today it was brown with a pink cravat. Disgusting.

"Now, again," he said. He rubbed his temples wearily as he leaned against a bookshelf. "Every step this time. Or you're going to write me a ten page paper in fourteenth century calligraphy on every step of simple conjurations, understand?"

"Mm," I growled, concentrating. I ran through every step this time, almost. I skipped over the part where I had to slap my left knee seven times, but it was hardly noticeable among all the other useless steps. This was a particularly strange spell, even in my experience of strange spells.

"What, forgot to slap your knee?" he asked. By then he was defeated by my obvious lack of interest in learning simple conjurations of animate objects. He sighed heavily, looking at me under contracted eyebrows. "Just go. I can't take anymore today."

"Neither can I," I said brightly, straightening up immediately. "Is Jeff back yet?"

"No," he said much too irritably. I had to give him a little bit of leeway- I'd been asking every day for a month. I'd been in Chrestomanci Castle for three months by then, and things weren't getting any better. Benjamin Allworthy actually had one of those veins in his forehead that popped out when he was angry, and it always seemed to be there during our sporadically scheduled lessons. I hated the place more than I thought possible. My only friend was Jeff, and he was hardly ever there. Really, he wasn't a very good friend, but he was the best I could find. I avoided Ztella and Penny as much as possible, for they seemed to dedicate both their existences to torturing and ridiculing me. I was feeling really broken down by it all. I must have read _The Arabian Nights_ a hundred times by that time, but it was better being lost in tales of Ali Baba and company than thinking about how miserable my life was.

I was forbidden from leaving sight of the castle, considering my frequent attempts to escape during the early days of living there.

I strode out of the library, leaving Chant to sit in an armchair, sipping a glass of brandy he'd conjured. I really made him angry most of the time. It gave me a violent satisfaction to know that I was making these people as miserable as me, even if it was so seldom. I ripped my cravat from my collar, stiffening it into a sheet of pink cravat paper with some recently learned magic. I folded an origami crane from the paper, a skill I'd learned from an imported book in the library. Unfortunately the Chrestomanci library was short on books of any interest to me, and there was only so much entertainment I could squeeze from _1001 Party Favors_, which had a huge sticker on its spine that read "Series 12- World B."

"What _are_ you doing?" asked Penny rudely, running up behind me in a host of pink skirts and petticoats. "What did you do to your cravat?" she said, horrified. I grinned, animating it with a quick spell. At least Chant had taught me something, even if it really wasn't useful. It flew through the hallway, but the castle's muffling spells quickly crippled my tiny spell. I left it on the floor, hoping it would cause someone trouble.

The little crane sort of reminded me of myself, being killed efficiently by Chrestomanci Castle.

"Penny," I said politely, "Can you please torture someone else? I'm busy."

"You're not busy," she snarled, "and I only came to tell you that we're having dinner together tonight. Down in the dining room, if you're not too good to come."

"I wish I were," I said, darkly amused. "As long as I don't have to suffer you and Ztella hissing in my ear. Go gather wool somewhere else."

"I think I will," she said savagely. I was so glad I could at least make _her_ angry. "You'd better find another cravat, you nine-lived heathen."

"You are _so_ inventive with your insults."

"Thanks so much, Gabriel. I'm glad you're so mature about this."

"See you at dinner!" I cried with false cheeriness, getting out the way quickly in case she started hurling mage-fire at me again. She'd ruined enough of my ugly suits that way, and I'd irreparably damaged enough of her jewel-bright dresses. Charred remains were much easier on the eyes than bright yellows and fluorescent pinks.

I sat on my bed and stared out the window at the setting sun. It was golden and beautiful, but the muffling spell on the window diluted the light so that it appeared a miserable mud-gold.

"Hallo!" cried a voice behind me, and I was engulfed in excited chicken for a moment.

"What are you so cheerful about, Al?" I asked him, setting him beside me.

"I just remembered my fiancée's name!" he squawked with delight.

"What is it?" I asked in shock. This was the first time Aloysius had actually remembered something since he'd told me his own name.

"It's Renee Thatcher!" he said happily, bouncing around my room. "But I'm not sure how to contact her," he said sadly. "Would she believe that I'm really Aloysius? I don't even remember her address."

"You seem well informed about the human world, at any rate," I remarked dryly. "I find it hard to believe that she would doubt you if she saw you. You can still speak, right?"

"Well, yes," he said. "I just don't know how to find her. I don't remember anything about her."

"I'll try to access Allworthy's records," I promised him. "Is she a magic-user?"

"I don't remember… She might have been. I've no idea."

"That's so… Well, it's not really helpful at all, really. It's a start, though."

"I think that my memory might keep returning like this," the chicken said. "Don't bother looking her up yet. I'm sure I'll remember it if it's important."

"Ah," I grunted. "Remind me, in that case. I'll bring you something from supper."

An hour later I was sitting in the great dining hall of Chrestomanci Castle. I had avoided sitting beside Penny, but Ztella had planted herself beside me and was making sure to cause me as much misery as was humanly possible. I had resigned myself to the evening being a disaster, so I picked at my food and stared at the ugly orange curtains adorning the windows. At the head of the table Benjamin Allworthy sat, staring into space with what I would have described as a moronic look had I been asked to describe his countenance. Ztella was eating with relish, and the visitor from Parliament that was on my left looked as disconcerted as I felt. The poor man was obviously not used to the absolute silence of our table, and I could see that he was probably the type of man to entertain the room at every dinner party. Oh, well. In Chrestomanci Castle, dinner was the antonym of entertainment.

"Lovely weather, isn't it?" said the man from Parliament nervously.

"Mm," I replied, because no one else seemed disposed to reply.

"I haven't had food this wonderful since we were in Paris," volunteered one of his colleagues in a lackluster voice. Considering that his food lay untouched, I supposed that in Paris most of Parliament had died of starvation.

"Compliments to you, Chrestomanci," a lady said.

"Agreed," grunted another man.

"Thank you," said Allworthy, leering. I think he was trying to smile, but he looked as if he had just eaten something unpleasant. The silence returned, and I leaned my elbows on the table, using a salad fork to slice the roast duck. The mannerly ladies in petticoats looked at me in horror, while I could see Allworthy's eye twitching in irritation. I sighed loudly.

"Gabriel," Allworthy said coldly, "Would you please return to the library and assist Mr. Chant with something?"

I felt the summons from Chant, and I hopped up with consternation. They had _planned_ this, for my misbehavior. I bowed my courtesies to the men of politics and stormed away, taking care to make as much noise as possible.

"Well, good evening Mr. Chant!" I said cynically as I arrived, sitting at a polished desk.

"Gabriel, is it really necessary that you cause so much trouble? You make Allworthy more miserable than he already is, and that in itself is a feat. I find that all Chrestomancis must hate what they must do, for all the stories of Chrestomancis are full of woe."

"I do hate it," I said. "I hate it so passionately that it dominates my thoughts most of the time, Mr. Chant. Penny and Ztella make it their business to irritate me, while Chrestomanci is simply the manifestation of Lucifer."

"He is, isn't he?" Chant said, sitting in an armchair. "Lucifer, eh? You've got a very fertile imagination, you know."

"So, why was I summoned away just for putting my elbows on the table?"

"This is an important group of people," said Chant, "and we can't risk offending them."

"I think Allworthy does a good enough job of frightening them, what trouble would a slight bit of offense cause them?"

"Better frightened than offended. Can't you just act normal?"

"How can a person like me be normal?" I countered.

"I see your point. You're an enchanter, and we are seldom ever normal. Your personality doesn't help that, though."

"I don't care," I replied. "I hate this place."

"I don't care, either. You're going to be the next Chrestomanci. The faster you accept it, the more chances we have of Allworthy retiring."

I stood up abruptly. "I'm going for a walk outside."

"Nowhere near the dining room," he warned. I waved away his warning with false nonchalance, striding purposefully out of the room. Outside, a chill wind blew through the gardens and fields surrounding Chrestomanci Castle. I shivered, but I was not altogether unhappy. The evening had its own frigid sort of beauty, and I was willing to endure a bit of chilliness to see it.

I cast a spell of warmth on myself as the sun disappeared completely, and I reclined in some pine needles for about an hour, watching clouds drift over the stars. Aloysius interrupted my reverie as he fluttered into the pine grotto.

"Gabriel, come quick! There's a dead lady on the lawn!"

"What?" I exclaimed. I jumped up, brushing pine needles from my suit. "Are you sure she's dead?"

"She isn't technically dead," he said, "but she's on the threshold between living and dying."

"Excuse me?" I asked. He had just displayed a higher amount of vocabulary than I was used to.

"Hurry!" he said, flapping in the direction of this dead lady. I ran behind him, panting with the effort of so much running. It was actually a girl, and she was losing an awful lot of blood on the grass.

"Selshimara?" she asked faintly when I felt her pulse.

"Er… no," I replied. "I'm Gabriel de Witt, actually."

"Where's my brother?" she asked.

"That's not really important at the moment," I said. I sent powerful healing magic into her, and the ragged slashes on her back and arms knit themselves together. "I'm afraid you're going to have to sleep inside tonight."

"Where's my brother?" she persisted. I did not want to tell her that his spirit was trapped in a mad necromancer's power. It wasn't a name I'd easily forgotten, and the boy's scream still haunted my dreams, when they were not involved with Benjamin Allworthy playing the cello.

"What are we going to do with her?" asked Ztella to herself. I had explained about Selshimara's situation, and she was considering plans of action. "I find it hard to believe that a young man from Series Ten simply decided that he wanted to spirit travel, and just happened to get caught. What could be the meaning of this?"

The girl was well after my healing, but she had utterly refused to do anything sensible until we took her to her brother. After much frustration, I had locked her in a room without further ado.

Penny stormed in, looking furious. I had forgotten to mention that the room I'd locked the girl in belonged to Penny.

"Gabriel," she snarled, "why is that savage locked up in _my_ room?!"

"It was convenient," I said, fighting back a smirk.

"Fine," she said, giving up. Penny, giving up on an argument with me? That was entirely unheard of, and I stared with open bewilderment at this sudden shift in her character.

"It seems that there is only one way to break the spell on the boy's spirit," Ztella said, at long last. "You must find his body and draw back his spirit from Sir Pensar. I'm not even sure if that is possible."

"I'll do it," I volunteered quickly. Anything to escape this castle, I thought to myself.

"That's usually Jeffrey's job," Ztella replied.

"But he's out on a mission right now," I pointed out. "And, besides, I have the strongest magic in the castle, other than Allworthy."

"Well, you'll need to get it cleared with Allworthy first," she said. I grinned. Allworthy wanted me out of the castle as much as I wanted myself out of it.


	6. Gabriel de Witt, Argument Magnet

I finally have a new chapter up! Please read it, and review to tell me what you think! I love to read your reviews! :)

* * *

"I forbid it," said Chrestomanci immediately after I had explained. "I cannot have my only heir getting himself murdered by Pensar. We've had trouble with him before, and it's never going to end if you get yourself killed. Absolutely not."

"But, sir," I said, even abandoning my usual honorific of Monsignor, "This is somehow tied to me."

"Why do you say that, boy?" asked Allworthy, glaring at me over his desk. I had thought long and hard over this, and I had determined that somehow all these bizarre things were interlinked. Why, all of a sudden, was I being confronted with all these dilemmas? Why had a strange person ended up on the lawn of the very castle I lived in? Especially when I had recently spoken to her trapped brother.

"It has to be," I said. "I already told you about the incident with the spirit traveler. There is no such thing as a coincidence, Chrestomanci, sir."

"De Witt. Do me a favor and find somewhere else to play detective games. I am utterly unconvinced that this is in any way related to you. You have been involved in one incident with Pensar, whereas my entire staff has all fought him off several times each. Yes, you are important to the Castle, but not so important that you would be the first target of anyone. You have as much power as I do, but you have no influence over anything. There is no reason that I could contrive for your destruction, other than the murder of the next Chrestomanci. Even then, you would have to be killed several times over, and that is nearly impossible while you are in this Castle. Am I clear? You are not going on a wild goose chase."

"I see," I said. There had to be some piece of information that both Allworthy and I were missing. His logic, for once, made perfect sense. That did not mean I was going to follow it, but I was going to find the answer to the appearance of Selshimara's sister.

I shook my head at Chant when I exited Chrestomanci's study.

"Well, I've spoken to the girl, at any rate," said Chant as we walked through several corridors. "She's getting better. The reason she had all those cuts and bruises was because she misjudged where to place her gate while she spirit-traveled here. She fell through the tallest tree on the lawn and hit her head on a rock."

"Oh," I said. I had been under the impression that she had fought some sort of swashbuckling villain while she bravely fought through the World Gate to save her brother, whose spirit she had followed by mysterious magical means. The tree part was rather a letdown.

"Ztella is with her right now," he continued. "Apparently she travelled here because she heard Chrestomanci Castle was some sort of Magic police station."

"Oh," I said again. I had been entirely wrong about these mysterious connections. _Ugh. I'm an idiot_, I thought to myself.

We entered the infirmary, where Ztella was reclining in an armchair beside the Savage girl's bed. My, she certainly did look like a savage. She was wearing some sort of sailing gear paired with ragged leather armor. Her face was deeply tanned, and stood out beside Ztella's extreme paleness.

"Good evening, Marcus, Gabriel," said Ztella, inclining her head toward us formally. "Gabriel, you may want to visit the Medium Saloon. It seems you have a visitor. The butler has been wandering around, looking for you for the past half hour. You'd better go see what it's about." Oh, well, this was just wonderful. It was probably Sir Pensar himself, come in disguise to blow up the castle. I left the infirmary in disgust, storming toward the Medium Saloon with a great deal of impatience. A manservant by the name of Nelson awaited me at the entrance to the saloon.

"Mr de Witt, a Miss de Witt to see you," he said, bowing deferentially.

"Thank you, Nelson," I said, allowing him to open the door for me. My sister, Caroline, sat nestled in crimson cushions, looking at me with a mixture of surprise and severity.

"To what do I owe the honor of this visit, Caroline?" I asked, bowing slightly. She arose from her seat and curtsied with the perfection of a de Witt fresh from preparatory school.

"I received word from one of my acquaintances that Chrestomanci's heir was a fair young man with an imperious air to him. Apparently you've been entertaining here regularly the sort of people that Mother and Father often visit. It was too much to hope that you would be that young man, but it seems we were all mistaken."

"I am glad to hear that," I replied, taking a seat across from her. I accepted tea from Nelson, and I sipped it until Caroline deigned to say something else to me.

"Gabriel," she began, "You do realize that Mother and Father have disowned you for your conduct."

"I expected as much," I whispered, taking a gulp of the scalding liquid.

"I do think that they would be inclined to do otherwise, though, if they were to find out your new position in life."

"That I have no intention of telling them. Frankly, I was not going to tell anyone of my former acquaintance," I replied.

"Even me, Gabriel?" she said, looking at me over the rim of her teacup.

"Even you. I did not flatter myself so much as to think you would take me in after what I did at Garrett."

"You are right. I am thoroughly disappointed that you threw away your entire education because you could not be imposed upon to act acceptably."



"You're quite eloquent today, Caroline," I said. "You may rest assured that I will no longer be an imposition upon any of my family. I have enough people to impose upon here at Chrestomanci Castle."

"Well, Gabriel, although it was against my better judgment, I came here to ask you whether you might want to tell Mother and Father what has become of you. They did not believe the rumors that you were to be the next Chrestomanci, but I am sure that if they knew they would readily accept you back into the de Witt family."

"And you think that I would want to be a part of it? You do not know me so well as you think, Caroline. I have no wish to see Mother or Father, and I know that they only would want to discuss with me the ways that my new position forwards their advancement into society… Or their fortune. They have no love for me, and I have none for them."

"How can you say such things? They are your parents. I am your sister!"

"I know full well who you all are. You are a pack of rabid socialites. I have no wish to be associated with you. If it were possible, I would detach myself from this surname. As it is, I do not think anyone would forget it. Come back when you have any sincere regard for me or my feelings, rather than my position in life. Goodbye, Caroline."

She looked at me with a frigid sort of anger. "You really think that I would come all this way to advance anyone's place in society? You have disgraced our family name, and would you be able to be rid of it I would be most glad. Unfortunately, you are an obstinate brat with no regard for anyone but yourself. I would be glad to have you back in my company, Gabriel, but you are far too selfish. Consider the clan de Witt a part of your past, then. I scarcely can believe I took the trouble to leave my fiancée alone in London to come this far."

"Why are you here?" I asked furiously. "You wouldn't have accepted me back into your confidence if I were not the next Chrestomanci. How can you say that you wish to have my company if that is so? I do not wish to discuss this any further!" With that I stormed from the room, feeling a mixture of resentment for my parents and a curious anger at Caroline for disturbing me. I wanted to solve the Selshimara mystery, even if Monsignor Allworthy did not approve of it.

"That sounded entertaining," said Penny, who was waiting for me outside the Saloon.

"Go put your long nose somewhere else," I said, speeding my pace. She glided beside me, looking perfectly at ease with my irritation.

"I didn't mean to listen in on your conversation," she began, but I interrupted her.

"Oh, really, Penny? You have an uncanny ability to show up anywhere I am, in addition to eavesdropping and making life more and more difficult for me. Go. Away. I am not in a mood for quarreling."



"I wasn't here to quarrel, for once," she said. "I just thought you'd want to know that your chicken is talking to the Savage."

"What?" I asked, forgetting momentarily my annoyance. "How did he get to the infirmary?"

"I don't know," she said, looking at me in a Caroline-ish way. "He's talking to her about the current embargo on dragon claws in her world, actually."

"That makes sense," I said, sighing. "He talks like a professional orator, and yet he can't remember the name of the place he was born. I can't fathom the curse on him, even using all the magic I've ever learned."

"Neither can Chant," she replied. "He's spent the time since you left trying to turn the chicken back into a human."

"It won't work. It's some damned strange spell. I can't grasp it at all."

"Don't look at me," she said, looking out the windows as we walked. "My magic isn't like that." I made a noncommittal noise, because I didn't want her to think I was becoming civil. Talking to her like this made me feel as if she were storing up hostility so she could unleash it upon me. I would not be lulled into a false sense of security.

"Oh, I agree, the currency exchange is broken in Series One. One moment you can't find a gold piece in any country, and then suddenly people are melting the coins to make jewelry. The artificial control the government holds over the economy is ridiculous." The voice discussing this issue turned out to be Aloysius', naturally. He was roosting on a food tray, flourishing one of his wings in a very human way. "Hello, Gabriel," he said as I sat beside Chant. Ztella seemed to have left while I was gone.

"What's the news?" I asked Chant, who was kneading his knuckles into his forehead.

"Ask the girl. I haven't been able to get a word in edgewise since the chicken jumped in."

"Al," I interrupted, Do shut up. We need to talk to the girl, please." He looked at me with what I assumed to be a rueful expression.

"I need to see Chrestomanci," the Savage said firmly, sitting up. She looked quite well, save for a patch of gauze taped to her forehead.

"I'm the Chrestomanci-in-Waiting," I said, "Is that good enough? I know your Selshimara, actually."

"You know my brother?" she asked, forgetting about her previous request.

"Well, not very well," I admitted. "I came into contact with him a few months ago. He seems to be the captive of a necromancer. The man is drawing power from Selshimara's spirit, I suspect."



"I knew that," she said. "Selshimara has some sort of weird ability to spirit travel without an anchor. I didn't know people could snatch your spirit while you were doing it, though."

"It's not a common practice," said Chant. "You run the risk of your captive overpowering you and taking away control of your body. It's just not an efficient way of gaining power, if you ask me."

"I don't know why Selshimara would be a target, anyway," the Savage said. "He doesn't have very much magical talent to begin with."

"Why are you here?" asked Penny. She looked with intense suspicion at the Savage.

"I already told _him_," the Savage said, jerking her thumb at Chant. "I heard that you people here are the magic police. You make sure people aren't abusing magic and all that, right?"

"Sort of," said Chant. "But we aren't allowed to interfere with problems of a personal nature. We're already after the man who has captured your brother, but there isn't anything we can do until we've gotten hold of the criminal."

"You must be joking," she said. "You are telling me that the Court Wizard sent me here for no reason?"

"Er," said Chant, seeing the Savage's expression, "We'll take that into account when we prosecute him." _Excellent answer_, I thought sarcastically as the girl's face turned an angry vermilion.

"You mean to tell me that you're _useless_?" she hissed. "The way I was told, this place is supposed to control rogue mages, not get caught up in stupid technicalities."

"We have to do something, Mr. Chant," I said. She looked so angry and upset that I couldn't help but feel angry and upset myself. It wasn't fair that we had the ability to save her brother but refused to do anything about it.

"I know," he said, kneading his temples once more. "But what are we to say to Chrestomanci. This girl's dilemma seems like nothing compared to fighting with Allworthy."

"I see your point," I said.

"Do you have a name, girl?" asked Chant impolitely.

"Enisra," she said. "I'm the princess of Anchurtrua."

"Is there a possibility that you have any valuable magical secrets at your disposal?" asked Chant with a half-smile. As Enisra shook her head, he said "I didn't think so. I don't think Chrestomanci is going to risk any of his staff running off just to save your brother."

"But it's Pensar," Penny said. "We've been after him for two years. Why not go after him, instead of following him?"

"Do you want to be the one to face him, Penny?" asked Chant. "The last time we really faced him before the Tundem incident it took the combined powers of Allworthy, Ztella, Jeffrey, and me to just get rid of him and his minions. The last incident was almost too easy."

"I think that was because I told Selshimara not to help him," I said guiltily. Selshimara's scream still echoed in my nightmares. "I think that he was counting on the extra help, and he didn't know what to think when it didn't come."

"It still shouldn't have been that easy. Why were you able to contact Selshimara at all?" Chant looked at me seriously. "Enisra, you can stay here while we work at Allworthy, but try to stay out of his way. We'll do everything we can, but I promise nothing. Benjamin Allworthy is the most stubborn man in all the worlds."

"He'd better do something," she said fiercely. "Or he'll have me to answer to."

Her personality seemed such that she would not hesitate to smash Allworthy's head in with a club if he did not do as she requested. Well, maybe it had something to do with the fact that she was royalty. I would not want to deal with her wrath, I knew.

"Come," said Penny, "I'll find you a better place to stay than my room." The two girls seemed disposed to actually becoming friends, and I felt a sudden heaviness in my chest. I hoped Penny would not have a new ally in her constant torture of me.

I confess that even with Penny's torture, the interesting and adverse happenings were giving me a greater amount of contentment in Chrestomanci Castle. I think my main gripe before had been a lack of interesting people and things to do. There were certainly many things to think about now, and I felt a resulting ease that I could not abide with. I felt certain that something would come along and ruin it.


	7. Allworthy Makes a Mistake

I walked down to the village a few days after my meeting with Caroline. Aloysius accompanied me, and he spent most of the long walk staring at the scenery absentmindedly. Every once in a while he thought of something to ask me about the surrounding countryside. After I answered one of these queries, he lapsed back into silence.

We finally arrived in the village, which was nothing more than a cluster of houses with a small shop and a church. I walked into the shop, where bolts of fabric hung on one wall and tools and raw foodstuffs covered the other. It was not planting season, so there were no seeds in the bins meant to hold them. I bought a few bits of peppermint candy with a bit of money I'd wheedled from Ztella, and I ate one as I strolled around the countryside, pondering this and that.

When I arrived back at the castle, people were rushing everywhere. A servant strode up to me as I slid through the Front Door.

"Mr. de Witt, your presence is requested in Chrestomanci's office," he said, handing me a small piece of paper with a note written in elegant script.

_Gabriel,_

_Chrestomanci is off on urgent business. We need you here without delay. __**Do not**__ ignore this note._

_Z. C. Terrence_

I felt a strong twinge of annoyance, followed by a burst of interest. Chrestomanci away? This meant something was wrong, which meant I might actually have something important to do.

I ran in my spindly way up to Chrestomanci's dusky office, where I could hear many voices shouting back and forth to one another. It was the most exciting sound I'd ever heard coming from that particular room.

"I'm here," I said, pushing the door open. Ztella was sitting at Chrestomanci's desk, dictating a letter to a secretary by the name of Elaine. Ztella held up her hand to stop Elaine's speedy writing.

"I was wondering where you were," she said. When I began to explain, she waved my explanation away and continued speaking. "We're a bit short handed here, as you can see. Chrestomanci and Chant were called on some sort of magicians' revolt in Series Five. He left me in charge, and there is yet another problem in World B of this series."

"What sort of problem?" I asked, sitting in an enormous leather chair. Her graying hair was spilling out of its usual neat bun, and she had a frantic, panicked look on her face.

"There is a demon summoning about to take place there. I fear the worst," she said.

"Pensar?" I asked. She shrugged.



"I don't know. I can't tell who is summoning, only where and when it will take place. I have to stop it, or else we will have an even bigger crisis on our hands. Unfortunately, the only other magic user strong enough to maintain the Castle's security is… you."

"Me?" I asked. "Why me?"

"No one in here has even half the power you have, Gabriel. However…" here she stopped and sighed. "I don't know if I can trust you."

"What?!" I yelped. "Don't _trust_ me?"

"You have been most reluctant to help anybody out here," she said, looking at me with calculation.

"But this is a real problem," I said. "I know my duties, even if I detest them, Ztella." She looked a bit surprised.

"I believe that's the most mature thing I've ever heard you say. Do you vow to take this responsibility seriously?"

"Of course." I didn't feel up to the task, but I had to do it. I couldn't expose all these people to something I had the ability to prevent. They all looked very worried, and I was expected to keep them all out of harm's way. "How likely is it that someone will attack us here?"

"Conspiracies like this have happened before. Staged things happening off-world while the Castle is unguarded. It's quite common, which is why I have to leave another enchanter in charge here."

"You're an enchanter?" I asked.

"No. I'm a necromancer," she said. "Of the highest degree. However, my abilities are sufficient to protect us while Chrestomanci is gone, even if I pale in comparison to you. But I cannot ignore this summoning, as I am the only one within several worlds who can stop it. Do you understand my predicament?"

"Yes," I said, suppressing a shudder. Good Lord, was this what a man felt like before he was going to be married? Was this what the phrase "cold feet" had been created to describe? The responsibility weighed upon my shoulders, and my chest tightened as everyone stared at me, expecting me to grin and act as if Ztella had simply asked me to water the petunias. "Go. I'll hold the fort."

"Are you sure you can do this?" Ztella whispered. I think my expression gave away my panic.

"Do we have a choice?" I asked, steeling myself in order to make my voice more steady.

"No. But I must stress how important it is that you maintain defense here. This is our center of activity, and there is no way we can lose it. Do you understand?"

"Yes, Ztella. I'll do whatever it takes." She nodded.



"Believe me, you have what it takes to be a true Chrestomanci. You have it in your eyes, you know." I stared at her blankly, wondering where she got such a faulty impression of me. Perhaps my farcical confidence had been too convincing.

Ztella stood and took her snakeskin parasol from under the desk. She tucked it into the ribbon tied round her waist, and then she walked purposefully to a group of witches and warlocks setting up the gate. They conversed for a bit, while I transferred my shuddering body from the leather chair to Chrestomanci's great wooden throne. I laced my fingers together and waited until Ztella had gone.

"What should we do now?" asked Penny, who had been talking to Enisra for the past half hour.

"You all know the warding spells, correct?" I asked, standing up. I leaned on the desk, looking from face to face. They were my staff now, and they were counting on me.

"Not all of them we can do," said Nelson. "They need an enchanter."

"I know that," I said. "I want you all to split into groups. People who can perform magic over here, and people with no magical ability on this side." They separated, and I examined them once more.

"Those of you who can perform magic, split into three groups," I said. "Jeffrey, lead your group to the east side of the Castle. Do every ward you can, and set a sentry with enough magic to stay out of trouble. Penny, take your group to the west side, and do the same. Third group, come with me. All of you who are not coming with me, stay here and keep watch on the quicksilver bowls. Before I leave I will set them to each area surrounding the castle, and I want you to watch them with the greatest vigilance. Nelson, you will stay here and act as messenger for them. Send a warn-spell directly to me if you sight the slightest bit of trouble. Penny, Jeffrey, off with you. Third group, off we go," I said. I walked past all the previously set up quicksilver bowls, setting them each to advantageous viewpoints. "Remember, our lives depend upon constant vigilance."

The wards were tricky to set and reinforce. Physical wards were easy enough; because once I had set them, it was a simple matter for my group of magic users to channel magic into them. Spiritual ones depended entirely upon me. I had to set each one for other planes of existence, and this required me to concentrate heavily upon finding the other planes. Finally, I had finished setting a web of defenses round the castle, and I was quite exhausted. I made sure that sentries were patrolling every bit of ground around the castle, and I also made sure that there were replacement sentries for every four hour shift.

"I have to rest," I said to Jeffrey, with whom I was walking back to the office. "I've set more wards than I count, and I've been up since dawn this morning. I chewed on another piece of peppermint candy as Jeffrey led me to the closest saloon to Chrestomanci's study.

I nearly fell onto the largest sofa in the room, and once I'd settled in I fell right asleep. Jeffrey was to wake me if anything even remotely adverse happened. It was heavy, dreamless sleep, and a welcome respite from the chaos surrounding me. I was not one for constant chaos. A bit of it to offset 

the monotony every once in a while, yes, but I had to rest from my escapades, even when I enjoyed them so much. Order was important to me, even if sometimes I expressed my feelings with chaos.

"Gabriel," came Jeffrey's voice as he grabbed my shoulder. "Come to the study, right now."

"How long have I been sleeping?" I asked, standing up. I felt disgusting, because I had been wearing the same suit since I had walked to the village.

"It's noon," said Jeffrey, leading me through the corridor. "All has been quiet… Until now."

"Gabriel!" shouted Chant, who came running down to meet us. He looked extremely disheveled and manic, and I did not want to hear what had caused his current state. "Benjamin Allworthy is dead."

I slumped to the floor in sudden shock. I still had not recovered from my spell casting the previous night, and my knees could not take my distress.

"Y-you cannot be serious," I said, staring into nothingness.

"I am quite serious. Allworthy wasn't expecting a conspiracy of this magnitude. He underestimated Pensar's connections. We were sure that the revolt in Eurasia was staged to lure us out, but we were the only ones who could deal with the enchanters there. Allworthy assumed he was strong enough. And now we are paying for his carelessness." Chant was angrier at Allworthy for dying than he was upset.

"He wasn't strong enough," I croaked. "And neither am I."

"Pull yourself together!" said Chant, dragging me up by my collar. "You have a responsibility to take care of all twelve series now, boy. You are the only one in the Universe who can take this post."

"Do you think I can do it?" I asked him.

"You've got more magic in your left foot than everyone in this castle combined!" I looked at him hopelessly, but I knew that he was right. I had to do something.

"All right. Take me to the annex of the office and tell me everything." I was still a bit shaky, and when a maid handed me a cup of strong, sweet tea it spilled a bit in my trembling hand. "How did they kill him?" I asked. I was regaining a bit of control, and I was horrified that a nine-lived enchanter could be dispatched in such a short time. Surely his extra lives would have been enough to save him.

"He has lived such a long time that he only had three lives left. They used a dragon's blood spell and blew his lives apart. Then they- they killed each one separately. The old man was getting senile and careless with old age, anyway. It's time we had a new Chrestomanci," Chant said in a disjointed way. He was distracted.

"But that's not important anymore," said Jeffrey, who was leaning on the wall, his tall figure towering over Chant's average height. "You need to take action now, Gabriel. Don't underestimate the ambitions of your enemies."



Sir Pensar had become a sort of ghostly adversary, somehow behind the scenes of all these terrible things that were happening, and I was not even sure he was real anymore. I couldn't understand the magnitude of what he was doing, because I didn't know why or how he was doing it. Best to find out more, and then I could decide what to do.

The clock was ticking, figuratively speaking, and I was running out of time to languish in terror and inaction. I was not ready for it, but my time had come at last.


	8. Davis Carlisle

Thank you for your reviews. I appreciate your words of kindness. I hope that this chapter will continue to entertain you!

--

I sat at Allworthy's- no, _my_ desk, contemplating what my next course of action was to be. It had been two days since Allworthy's death, and there was still no sign of anything significant happening. No movement on the scrying front, no sign of Ztella Terrence, and I still had no clue as to what I was waiting for.

I had strengthened the wards of the castle several times for fear they would be a weakness, but thus far we had not needed them. Enisra and Penny had been given the task of managing the staff, while I conferenced with various experts on various subjects. Chant was constantly by my side, making sharp suggestions and sending Jeff to scout problems in other worlds. We had twice sent him to World B of Series 12 to find Ztella, but she and her demon summoning were nowhere that Jeff could find.

"We do have another person we could call upon to find her," said Chant when Jeff returned empty-handed the second time.

"Who might that be?" I asked, looking at his somber profile.

"A mercenary, bounty hunter, whatever you want to call him. The fact is he has never failed us, but his price is steep. Also, there is no guarantee that he isn't employed by Pensar or another of our enemies."

"Then what use is he?" I asked sharply. "We've no use for a would-be traitor."

"There's the rub. He won't fail to complete the mission if we call upon him to do so, but we have no assurance we are his only employer."

"Truth spells?" I asked.

"He's an enchanter. You're the only one here with more power than him," replied Chant.

"Then summon him," I said. I had had enough waiting- it was time I had Ztella back. She would know what had to be done more than I would. The constant dead ends were starting to wear on me.

"Jeff, would you summon Mr. Carlisle?" Chant said politely.

"Of course. He'll be here within the hour," said Jeff. He strode away to the World Gate, which had been used several times in the past few days. In a quarter of an hour or so, a new person made his way through the Gate.

His body was built along the same lines as mine, but I could not imagine a person less like me. He wore spectacles over an extremely handsome face, and he had the extreme paleness and red hair I'd always associated with the Irish. His eyes were pale, pale blue. All in all, this man could easily have been mistaken for an accountant at a glance, perhaps a typist. The thing that was most striking about him, though, was the blazing intelligence that lurked in his eyes. His garb was similar to my own, save that upon him the black suit looked elegant and fitting. He was only a few years older than me, and that was even more disconcerting.

"My regards," he said as he sauntered to stand before the desk. His accent did not disappoint- it was entirely refined. "Where is Benjamin Allworthy?"

"He has been incapacitated for the time being," I replied. I did not think it prudent to reveal to this man news of Allworthy's death. "I am currently heading the operations here at Chrestomanci Castle."

"I see. Allow me to introduce myself properly," he said with a bow. "My name is Davis Carlisle, and I am employed for a variety of reasons. But before we continue these formalities, might I request to know your name, sir?"

"My name is Gabriel DeWitt, and I am the acting Chrestomanci at this moment."

"Then I am right to assume that you are indeed a nine-lifed enchanter. Also, would you happen to be the son of Wilcox and Lucinda DeWitt of Cereston?"

"You know my family." This I addressed to him as a statement.

"What enchanter in this world has not met a DeWitt?" asked Carlisle. "Your clan is rather well known, especially to myself. I am of the Carlisle family, obviously, which I am sure you know quite well."

"I do. I had merely thought it a coincidence. You also hail from Cereston?"

"Of course. I graduated from Garrett six years ago." This was interesting. However, it would have to wait until later to be explored. I had a demon exterminator to find, and time was running short

"I'm sorry, but I must return to the issue at hand," I said. At that moment, Aloysius fluttered through the doorway. I could tell immediately that he was in one of his awfully absentminded state.

"Hallo!" said the chicken, finally coming to a stop beside me on the desk.

"Not now, Al," I said. "We're busy."

"I would have to be a simpleton not to have recognized that, my good man," he said, snapping into one of his bouts of advanced vocabulary. I felt disconcerted for a second.

"I see," I said. There was no point in arguing with a rooster when I had a devious bounty hunter to deal with. "Now, Mr. Carlisle-"

"Please, call me Davis," he said politely.

"Now, Davis, I am missing a vital member of my staff. She left to halt a demon summoning a few days ago, and is nowhere to be found. We either need her back here, or we need a confirmed report of what happened to her. Can you provide this?" He raised a reddish eyebrow at me.

"Of course I can," he said. "Give me the details, and I'll give you the price."

"I have one condition," I said. "You must provide some sort of proof that you are not working against us."

He chuckled. "Chrestomanci, you would not have summoned me unless you were completely desperate. You fool yourself if you think I didn't notice the destruction of Benjamin Allworthy. I keep close tabs on important magical happenings, and the transfer of power from one Chrestomanci to the next creates a huge wave in the continuum of magic in every series. Your staff will have felt it, but you haven't been around long enough to feel it as of yet. Ztella Terrence will be found, I can assure you of that, and I will return her to you if she is alive. I do not make deals that are not either equal to both parties or to my advantage, you see, so I will only promise you that. If you want to guarantee my loyalty- well, that would increase my asking price sharply."

"What would that cost me?" I asked in low voice. I could feel his calculating eyes examining my every word, my every movement. He concentrated his gaze on me, and it was like being in a spotlight.

"I wish to be part of your staff," he replied. I looked at him disbelievingly. There had to be a catch.

"I can't trust you," I replied coolly.

"Will you sign a Gilt Ledger?" asked Chant eagerly.

"I will," replied Davis.

"What is the Gilt Ledger?" I asked in confusion.

"It is the most binding of magical contracts," said Chant.

"If I even began to betray you, I would be incinerated on the spot. Or something equally fierce."

"Why would you go to these lengths to be part of the staff here?" I asked. Davis shifted his gaze from Chant to rest upon me once more.

"Do you not know the salary of an enchanter working for Chrestomanci? The access to magical secrets? The freedom to travel between worlds? Mr. Chant can vouch for me on that subject."

"It's true," agreed Chant. "One thing I know about Mr. Carlisle is that he is an academic first, a mercenary second. He works for magical knowledge, and being part of this staff is the ultimate way to gain this knowledge." Chant approved of it, and so I approved of it. Chant was a man who rarely agreed to do something so easily, and if he was confident that this was right, then so was I.

"Then you can proceed," I said. "Do what you must to find Ztella, but you must sign the Ledger first."

"Fair enough," he said, nodding.

"I do have one more question," I said as Chant went to rummage through the cabinets. "Why didn't you ask this of Allworthy?" Davis sighed, as if the answer were obvious.

"Would _you_ have been willing to work as a subordinate of Benjamin Allworthy?" he asked. I understood that, at least. "Besides, the man hated me." I snorted.

"You aren't the only one whom he hated," I said. Davis smirked knowingly.

"I look forward to working with you, Chrestomanci," he said, leaning over the desk and shaking my hand. I still had a nagging feeling in my gut that he might not be entirely honest. I would see eventually. He had been right about one thing- I was desperate for any solution I could find, and there was no time to think of one myself when the Castle was preparing for a siege.

I looked at the bustling group of people before me, and my eyes caught Penny's adoring look at Davis Carlisle as he left my desk. _Good Lord_, I thought, _You are an entirely foolish girl_.

"I like him," said Aloysius quietly, "But I think you should be careful. He's smart."

"I can see that much," I said. I laced my fingers together and studied them for a moment. Chant had followed Davis, apparently explaining what had happened to Ztella.

"Al, do you feel the tension in the air?" I asked.

"You probably feel it more than I do," he replied, preening his feathers. "Do you know how powerful you really are? You could probably blow that Davis fellow to bits in a fair fight."

"You think so?" I asked dubiously. I imagined that in a fair fight Davis would find my most vulnerable weakness and exploit it before I had even formed my first spell.

"You're the Chrestomanci," he said. "When is lunch?" I let my forehead come to rest on the desk. I should have known better than to take advice from Aloysius. He didn't usually lie, so his words were some encouragement, but I shouldn't have expected him to stay on the subject.

"I don't know," I said, my mouth scraping the polished wood of the desk I leaned on. I sat back up. "I hope it's chicken," I mumbled to myself as I got out of the great throne and stretched my body to its 6 feet and some odd inches of skin and bone.

Chant returned to my side, watching me crack my joints with a dry expression. When I had finished he walked with me to inspect the wards once more.

I opened the door of my office, and I stopped dead in my tracks. Pensar stood before me, holding a revolver to my temple. Oh, this was just what I needed.

I looked him square in the eye, and did something the Garrett Gabriel would have done. Magic exploded around Pensar, and he was momentarily frozen by the intensity of my spell. Chant grabbed me by my collar and thrust me back into the room. He slammed the door before Pensar could recover, and plastered the door with stasis spells even more powerful than my freezing spell.

"Go through the World Gate," he snarled at me, pushing me into the midst of the staff, all of whom were frozen in fear. "Penny, Jeff, get him and Enisra out of here! We can't afford to lose them! Find Davis!"

Penny grabbed Enisra, and Jeff grabbed my elbow. They towed us to the World Gate, which rippled with resonant power from Davis' recent passage.

"Go!" shouted Chant. "We'll find you! Get out of here!" We did as we were told, and the four of us stepped into the void, following Davis Carlisle's thread of resonance to where he had exited the gate. We stumbled into a long street, which looked awfully like my own world to me. Davis looked at us quizzically as we fell into a heap on the cobbles.

"I take it I won't be making this journey alone, then?" he asked.

"All is lost," Penny moaned. "How did this happen? This is all your fault!" she spat at me.

"_My_ fault?" I said, confused and furious.

"Shut up," said Davis sharply. "Get off the ground, and tell me just what has been happening."


	9. Unwanted Responsibility

A/N: I just wanted to address a strange typo I noticed in earlier chapters. I seem to be changing the way I spell "de Witt." I'm in the process of fixing it, but calculus has been taking first priority in my life, unfortunately.

Once more I would like to thank all of you for your reviews, and I'd also like to thank everyone who reads this.

We sat in a hotel room, and Davis was looking at us all critically. I despised hotels at this point.

"You can't be serious," he said, shaking his head. We did not respond, because it was obvious that we were telling the complete truth. "I can't believe Pensar could make it through your wards, Gabriel."

"He did," I said, glaring. "I've no idea how he did it. I didn't feel it at all, and that's something I should have recognized immediately."

"I would have, too," said Davis.

"How could you have felt that?" asked Jeff, who was lying prostrate on one of the large beds. "I couldn't feel any of the wards unless Gabriel was there working on them."

"I'm an enchanter, Jeffrey," said Davis, turning his piercing gaze on Jeff. "I'm not some pale magician or warlock. Why do you think I'm so respected- so highly paid?"

"You're not as strong as Gabriel, surely," said Penny. "He's a nine-lifer."

"No," said Davis after a long pause. I could not tell if it was because he was angry about the fact. "But I know a great deal more. We are equals, currently."

"Well, that makes sense, I suppose," I said. I didn't particularly care, but if Penny and Jeff did then I wouldn't stop them from caring. I already knew that Davis could beat me to a pulp if he so chose, and I was not going to deny the fact.

Davis sighed, putting his head in his hands. It was not an expression of defeat, though; it was a thinking habit. Enisra yawned.

"Go to sleep, all of you," he snapped, glaring at us. Enisra rolled her eyes. "All of you… except Gabriel."

"I can't sleep?" I asked, yawning.

"I need your help, unfortunately," he replied. He did not seem amused by the idea. His icy eyes were all but flaming with ideas and anger and all sorts of other emotions. I had never seen such an expressive person as Davis before. Even the tense way he sat emanated emotion. "We're going for a stroll. Expect us back in a few hours, comrades."

"Let's get going, then, shall we?" I said, rising from where I had been sitting. We exited the room, and Davis locked it with an industrial-looking little key.

"Where are we?" I asked as we walked toward the exit of the hotel. It reminded of the Tundem Hotel, but what fancy hotel wouldn't? They were all the same.

"World B. Where did you think I would go first?" he said testily. "This was where Ztella said she was going, so logically we can assume she is either here or there is something going on that she came here to fix."

"That makes sense," I said. "But what can you hope to accomplish by walking around aimlessly like this? You haven't really narrowed anything down. We don't even know what continent she is on, let alone which town she is in."

"I know she's here," he said. "I traced her last resonance thread, just as you traced mine. It was much fainter than mine, though, so mine covered it up as I followed it here. You wouldn't have noticed it among mine and all the others in the Place Between."

"The what?" I asked.

"You know, the place with all the shapeless rocks," he said, striding on with a purpose.

"I've no clue what you're talking about," I said. "It was like following a distant light, or a star, or something. It was nothing like what you're talking about."

"When you block out what they've taught you, your magical instinct would show you that place. As it is, you're blocking out what is really there with an image of what you expect to be there."

"Er, whatever," I said. By this time I was panting as I tried to keep up with his swift, purposeful stride.

"I'm going to have you follow her resonance thread from here. I can't pick it up any longer, but you can. Not only are you more specifically attuned to her than I, but also you are twice as powerful as I am."

"I'm not sure- huff- I –huff- believe you there, –huff- mate." I gasped.

"That's holding you back," he said, giving me for what felt like the hundredth time that day an infuriated glare. "You need to get over this impression that you're just average. There is no one in all the worlds alive that is like you."

"You –huff- are stronger than –huff- me," I pointed out. He slowed his pace, suddenly realizing how tired and out of breath I really was.

"Would you mind if I looked at your protection spells for a second?" he asked me, stopping altogether.

"My what?"

"You've got some thick layers of protection spells over you. Your parents probably cast them when you were a child, I think."

"What?!" I said, shocked. Why hadn't I noticed a lattice of spells around myself before this?

"Ignorance spell, as well," he said, smirking. "Your parents must be quiet devious. You've got protection spells laced with ignorance and fear spells. It's trying to make you afraid of strong casting. They must have realized how dangerous you were when you were small."

"You must be joking," I said in a flat voice. It was not that I didn't believe him. I was absolutely ashamed that I hadn't noticed this in the first place. He reached out a pale hand and grabbed a huge handful of something unseen around me. He closed his eyes and pulled, hard. He yanked and pulled, and when I finally felt it separate from me, I fell backward onto the ground. Davis tossed his handful of spells into the street in front of the carriages and some loud, metal machines.

I stood up, and I felt suddenly taller and less burdened. I hadn't realized before that my unaccountable depression had been due to the burden of these spells. They must have been very heavy, indeed. I felt as light a feather, and more gleeful than I had ever been in my life. Everything around me seemed much brighter, and I felt within me the magic that the spells had caused me to fear using. It was the most voluminous feeling of magic I had ever sensed, and it was almost too big for me to comprehend.

"Why didn't Allworthy or Chant notice this?" I asked, grinning. I didn't really care.

"Allworthy probably did not care," he said icily. "Chant wasn't looking for anything, and so he did find it. I, however, noticed that your casting was a great deal less powerful than it should have been. Chant would not have understood that a nine-lifed enchanter would automatically be stronger than him. He is the sort that thinks everything is attained of hard work, and while this is partly true, it is not accurate in an exceptional case such as you."

"That's wonderful!" I exulted, venting light and magic in every direction. This was euphoria.

"Would you _stop_ that?" he asked. "It's going to wear off in a few hours, anyway."

"Whatever you say," I said, smiling. "Let's find Ztella!" I immediately felt her thread of resonance. It was strong, and it had such a strong feeling of her personality that I had no doubt it was hers. There were thousands of other threads crisscrossing every layer of reality here, but I didn't want to feel those and so I blocked them out. It was all surprisingly easy. I followed the thread with a light, sauntering step, and Davis followed with his arms crossed and his being emanating frustration and annoyance.

We walked through street after street, and still her thread stretched on. I remained euphoric for the first three hours of following it, but it soon wore off as my fancy shoes rubbed blisters in my feet. I was dead tired by that time, but still we followed the trail.

"We'll stop here," said Davis. "We can take a carriage out to this town tomorrow. We've got to get back and sleep a bit."

"I'm all for that," I said, feeling exhausted. We turned around, and Davis took some dragon's blood from one of his pockets. He sprinkled it over our feet, and I felt him casting a speed spell. We strolled back to the city where we had been in a matter of minutes.

When we got back, I collapsed on the duvet next to Jeff, and Davis somehow wedged Penny and Enisra aside so that he would have a bit of room to sleep. I didn't envy him when Penny awoke to see him next to her. She would either be furious, or, perhaps, elated.

I awoke to the sound of Enisra leaving the room.

"Where are you going?" I asked in a whisper. She shrugged. "Do you want to go find something to eat?"

"I suppose," she whispered back. I got up and tiptoed out of the room. "What I would really like to do is find some new clothes that actually look right in this world," she said in a louder voice as we entered the hallway. Her strange leather jerkin paired with a men's work outfit did look awfully odd next to my once pristine suit.

"I'm hoping our food doesn't cost anything," I said. We found a rickety but grand elevator, and we descended to the ground floor. "This place looks quite affluent, though. We should be able to get a free meal."

"I certainly hope so," she said huffily. "I'm starving. The last thing I ate were those tea cakes Penny gave me. I hate tea and those awful cakes."

"I think this world might have some of the same," I said. The elevator came to a halt, and we entered the lobby to see a few tired guests sitting there in the early morning hours. Luckily, Enisra's exotic appearance didn't rile such tired people. We did receive a few mystified looks from their puffy eyes, but it was nothing too alarming.

"Excuse me," I said regally to the receptionist. She was almost as tall as me- which is quite tall- and she had an elaborate blonde pile of curls on her head. She clicked her nails on the desk impatiently. "Is breakfast served here?"

"Of course," she said. I could feel annoyance rolling off her in tangible waves. "Continental breakfast is being served right this moment in the Queen's Lounge." Enisra shot me a mystified look, but I smiled pleasantly and thanked the receptionist.

"The Queen's Lounge?" she asked as we walked the way the woman had told us to go.

"It's just a name," I said, shrugging. "I suppose it's to show that this hotel is linked to the Queen of England somehow."

"The Queen of _what_?" she asked.

"England. The country we are in right now," I replied. "I think that in your series it's called Anglo-Saxony or something. You know, after the kingdoms that were here long ago."

"Oh, that's the little spit of land in the north," she said, nodding. "They're actually having some sort of civil war right now. The Shweiss and the Angles hate one another." I ignored my nagging curiosity about the differences in our histories. I had no idea what the "Shweiss" were, or why she pronounced it with such a German accent.

"Ah," I said unhelpfully. We arrived in the Queen's Lounge, which turned out to be little more than a dining room. A maid showed us to a couple of seats, and they proceeded to shove food at us in the same manner the footmen at Chrestomanci Castle had.

"What is this?" asked Enisra, attempting to spear a piece of toast with a fork.

"No, no!" I hissed, taking the fork from her. "You can eat this with your hands. Use the knife to scrape _this_-" here I showed her the butter- "or _this_ on it." I pushed the marmalade toward her as well.

"And you eat it with your hands?" she asked in confusion. "How crude."

"Be quiet," I said half-jokingly. "You're walking around in armor and men's clothing. The people here already think you're strange."

"Oh, I don't really care what these people think of me," she said.

"Just eat your toast."

"What is this?" she asked, picking up a scone.

"Don't worry about it," I replied.

"Is this all they're going to give us?" she asked. "There is no meat for breakfast here?"

"It's usually a small meal," I explained. "Wait until lunch to really eat. And you'll have tea as well, you know."

"But I don't like tea."

"No, not tea the drink- tea, as in tea time. You know, when they give you tea and crumpets and all that?"

"Oh. Right. That stuff in disgusting."

"I'm not talking about food with you anymore," I said, exasperated. I devoured five pieces of toast, but my heart wasn't really in it.

Davis walked in a few moments later, looking absolutely pristine and as refreshed as a man just returning from holiday. He spotted us and seated himself carefully beside Enisra.

"I see that you found the dining room," he said. He accepted his tea so quickly from the maid that she nearly spilled it on him in her alarm. "I'm so sorry," he said to her, giving her a soulful smile. She blushed crimson and staggered to the next person. Davis, totally unaware of this, turned back to Enisra and me and continued talking. "Anyway," he said, "When Penny and Jeff have decided to wake up, we'll continue following Ztella."

"Shouldn't we try to contact Chant and the others at the Castle?" I asked.

"I doubt that they are at the Castle anymore. Either they are dead or they are in hiding, either of which situations are useless to us."

"I don't understand. Chant would be helpful to us even in hiding," I asserted.

"True. However, do we have the time to spend tracking an enchanter of considerable power who does not want to be found? I'm sure he's hidden well if he is hidden, and we don't know if he is alive to begin with."

"I can't argue with you there," I replied. I sank into my seat, both hands clasped round my teacup.

"Why don't we get in contact with my home court?" asked Enisra. "We employ several enchanters."

"From what I've heard about your brother," said Davis, "someone had to betray him to Pensar. That was no accident that he just happened to have caught a young boy of considerable magical talent while he was, of all things, spirit travelling with_ no anchor_. There is no teacher that would not first tell him student that fundamental rule."

"What if he was doing it on his own?" she said. "He was very smart, you know."

"I couldn't have figured something that advanced out even now if I didn't have a teacher," replied Davis. He sipped his tea. "But, truly, I suspect foul play on every front when I'm doing something as innocent as playing cricket, so I may be overly suspicious."

"You certainly aren't any safer for it," I said.

"Safer than you are," said Davis. "If there is one person the Universe is constantly against, it is going to be Gabriel de Witt."

"Thank you for your wonderful sentiments," I said acidly. I gulped down the rest of my tea and stood up. "We really need to get some clean clothes."

"I agree," said Enisra. "Get those two lazy fools out of bed. We're going to market."

"Must we?" Davis said. She glared at him for a second. Her eyes had an effect equally as powerful as his, but in a more violent, unrestrained way.

"Get Penny and Jeff," she reasserted. Davis bowed and jerked my arm, dragging me with him for assistance.

"She certainly _is_ a princess," said Davis with annoyance as we climbed the grand staircase. "We're getting her back to her world as soon as possible."

"What about Penny?" I asked.

"What about her? She stays. She may actually be useful."

"You're just saying that because she likes you," I said, annoyed.

"If I gave consequence to every woman that liked me, I would never get anything accomplished," he said coolly.

"That's why you're keeping her around, though."

"It actually isn't," he said brightly. "She's got some talent of her own, even if it isn't very traditional."

"What would that be? All I can feel about her is that she's some sort of minor magician."

"She's Ztella's successor," he said. "She's got an almost encyclopedic knowledge of demons and summoning. We won't be getting that sort of knowledge anywhere else but Ztella herself."

"Well, then, as soon as we find Ztella, she's out of the picture. She's an absolute hindrance."

"Oh, stop complaining," said Davis. He opened the door to our postage stamp room. Penny was sleeping on her stomach, snoring lightly. Jeff was actually up, reading a novel he seemed to have procured from nowhere.

"Are you ready, Jeff?" asked Davis, nudging Penny less gently than I would have expected him to. "Penny, it's time to leave."

"Just another minute, Mum," she croaked. Davis rolled his eyes at no one in particular, and nudged her a bit more sharply. "_What?!_" she said furiously, rolling onto her side and seeing Davis' laconic expression.

"You've got to wake up," he replied, walking over to Jeff.

"Are we leaving soon?" I asked tersely. I was on edge- most of my mind was taken up with my newfound sense of responsibility. My post of Chrestomanci weighed heavily upon me, even more so than it had at the Castle when I was in Allworthy's old office, acting in his place. I had utterly failed, and we had lost the safest place available to us. I was furious with myself.

Finally we left the hotel, Davis checking us out and somehow managing to produce the proper currency of the world we were in.

I was readier than ever to take on my responsibility, for the guilt had chained me to the name of Chrestomanci. I had to solve this crisis, or it could mean the end of magic as we knew it. It would have been bothering me less had we been moving faster than Penny's enormous skirts would allow.


	10. The Wandering Germanic Horn Blowers

"Oh, gods below and above," said Penny as we trudged through the rubble and ruin of yet another seemingly abandoned world. "Is this really worth all this trouble?"

"Penny," said Davis, whipping around in front of her. "Another complaint from you will have very unpleasant results- I assure you." Normally, this would not have stopped her stubborn and annoying comments, but such a remark from Davis was filled with such venom and conviction that she would nearly always comply. She glared, but no more utterances escaped her lips.

"Davis," I said in a low voice when he caught up with me, "Where exactly are we?"

"I wish I could tell you exactly," he replied. "It's one of the worlds outside the named Series. The only thing I can tell is that there hasn't been life here in many years."

"How does a world come to be so abandoned?" I asked.

"Attack, natural disaster, war, plague- you name it, a world has succumbed by it. Not all worlds are quite as lucky as the twelve named Series, I assure you."

"I wasn't aware," I said. "I can only feel the faintest trace of Ztella now. Do you think that she is actually here?"

"If we can't trust your senses, the rest of can have little confidence in our own."

"Gabriel," called Enisra, "are you sure we're in the right place?"

"As sure as I can hope to be," I replied.

"I think we've got some guests," said Jeff suddenly. A second later I caught the wave of malevolence that he was describing with that comment.

"Demons," said Penny.

"What kind?" Jeff asked.

"I would have to classify them at least at Rank 4… C," she said after a moment's pause.

"Is that bad?" Enisra asked with a shaky voice.

"It's nothing we can't handle," said Davis. "Penny, do you think you have enough power for a traditional exorcism?"

"I don't know yet. We'll see if they even care to attack us, first," she replied.

"Penny, you have unreserved access to whatever raw power we can offer," I said, feeling another wave reminiscent of the demon in the hotel back at Tundem.

"Gabriel," chuckled Jeff, suddenly breaking the morbid seriousness of our moods, "I think unreserved access to _your _magic would be overkill for a Class 4C demon."

"We will see," said Penny testily. "They're good at hiding their true natures. With our luck, it could be one of Named demons disguising itself."

"I somehow doubt a Named demon would trouble itself with us," said Jeff.

"I disagree," said Davis, "Gabriel is giving off the strongest aura of magic within several worlds, excluding a deity or god. If demons really do eat magic, as many magicians and exorcists have suggested recently in the scholarly world, then he is in real danger."

"Thanks for telling me now, Davis," I said. "I feel so much safer."

"You'll be fine, Gabriel," said Penny. "I can deal with almost any demon."

"I certainly hope you can, after all that time under the tutelage of Ztella Terrence herself," snorted Jeff.

"Shut up, Jeff," said Penny, tripping over a stone and nearly bowling Enisra into a cavern. "Sorry, sorry."

"It's fine," replied Enisra. "You know, I never expected in all that time at court that I would ever be tramping around an unnamed world with Chrestomanci and-" She was suddenly muffled by Davis slapping his hand over her mouth.

"Don't _say_ the name," he hissed. "It's dangerous to use his title around his enemies. That name holds too much power. Shut up."

"We know better than that," Jeff said. "We've been around him most of our lives."

"I'm sorry!" said Enisra with little apology in her voice. "I had no idea."

"It's fine," I said. "It's my title, and I forgive you for your oversight."

"You won't be saying that when a nice little demon pops in on us," said Davis, storming ahead once more.

Enisra glared at his walking figure, but she continued her plodding. Penny was stepping over the rocks and debris in an overly careful manner, which was just the sort of small annoyance that was sending me teetering over the edge of reason.

Suddenly, we heard the distant ghost of music. Horn… music?

"What _is_ that awful racket?" said Jeff.

"It sounds like a- a brass band," Davis said, cupping a hand to his ear. I magnified my hearing a bit, and that was indeed what it sounded like- a very bizarre brass band playing something extremely lively. I could even hear an accordion blaring.

We loped off in the direction of the sound, which was a large structure reminiscent of a crumbling Greek coliseum. We climbed through the rubble into the central arena, where we treated to one of the oddest sites I have ever seen.

_Let's have another song,_ a red demon said, rocking in midair with glee. It made my head hurt, like hearing an awful scraping noise that was somehow a voice.

I looked at my comrades, whose faces were frozen in various positions of disbelief and astonishment.

The band itself was a ragtag group of young men in what looked like lederhosen and funny hats. They were playing their instruments with gusto- trombones, trumpets, saxophones, an accordion, and a funny drum tied around one man's waist. They had to be from a world near to my own, because such instruments were characteristic of Series Twelve.

"Shall we hear the Mazurka, boys?" one of the men screamed in a definitely Atlantean accent (which would have been America is world Twelve B). "Or maybe a nice Tarantella?"

_We don't care which!_ the red demon laughed viciously,_ just keep playing the songs, you fools!_

"The Mazurka it is!" cried the leader, who was holding his accordion at the ready.

"What in the name of all the gods is this?" whispered Enisra. "I've never seen anything like it!"

_Did someone just mention the GODS?_ cried the small green demon. _I'll crush you, fool!_ It floated over to the pillar behind which we were cowering. _What are you humans thinking? What are you doing here, in OUR world?_

I really had a headache now.

"We're very sorry," said Davis in a belabored tone. "We were just looking for our… er… friend. She's a tall lady with green eyes. Carries a parasol."

_Does it think we actually care about its problems, Blackheart?_ a very large purple demon asked, floating over to where we stood.

_I think it does, Lifeslayer_, the green one replied. _Let's give them a reason to get out of our world!_

"We're not going anywhere, you filthy weaklings," spat Penny, marching up in front of the group to address the demons. "You don't even have real names. Do you think that we're afraid of you?"

_You should be,_ said the red one, joining his compatriots. _I am Thalmius the Red Terror, and you would be right to fear me._

"Never heard of you!" said Penny angrily. She whipped a pouch from the belt tied round her waist, and dumped a bit of it out. It became a cloud in the air, and Jeff ran up to grasp Penny left hand with his left. They raised their right hands and said some very funny words that I couldn't quite wrap my head around.

_Your petty spells will have no effect on us-_ but Thalmius the Red Terror was interrupted by the fact that he had popped out of existence. The two other demons followed.

"Nicely handled, you two," said Davis clapping a hand on Penny's and Jeff's upper arms. "You're a pair of great exterminators."

"Child's play," Penny said to him, real anger glinting in her eyes. "Don't patronize me."

"I wasn't," Davis said furiously.

"Shut up, both of you," Jeff said. "Let's go talk to the band."

"I want to go home," Enisra muttered. "I hate tramping around the worlds like this."

"You shut it as well, Princess," said Davis. "I've had quite enough of you!"

"Would you all stop quarreling?!" I shouted, kicking Davis in the shin. He looked daggers at me, but at this point I didn't care. If it came to a fight between the two of us, I would win.

"Thank you for saving us from those monstrous creatures!" said the leader of the band. "The Wandering Germanic Horn Blowers of Twelve B, at your service!"

"How did you end up with that lot?" I asked.

"Bit of a long story," replied the leader, taking off his funny hat.


End file.
